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THE 


BURTON 

MANOR 


M. V. BROWN 

n 



BROADWAYi 

PUBLISHING 

COMPANY 

«K*t 

835 BROADWAY, NEW YORK 



I THE LIBRARY Gf ] 
CONGRESS. 

■ Two Cooies lieeeived 

JUN 3 1905 

n Copyright Entry 

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Copyrighted, 1905, 

BY 

M. Y. BROWN. 


All Rights Reserved. 


THE BURTON MANOR. 


CHAPTER I. 

“But I say, Mr. Reynolds, it will never do for 
ns, in any way, to interfere with the interests of 
the ‘Liquor Traffic/ if we expect to win in the elec- 
tion next fall. I am just as much in favor of 
temperance as any man, but the one object before 
us now, is to defeat the opposite party. And 
in order to do that, we can afford to set aside some 
of our religious scruples for the time being, and 
discuss them when political affairs are more ripe 
for such things.” 

“I agree with you, Mr. Raymond, in most re- 
spects, but it does seem we ought to express our 
real convictions on this question and make some 
effort to suppress the liquor power in this coun- 
try. Yet to speak boldly about this matter would 
mean certain defeat for our party in the coming 
election. For a great many years the party has 
been faithful to me, so now, though I may differ 
from it in some respects, I will agree to whatever 
it may adopt as its platform in the convention 
soon to meet.” 

“Yes, gentlemen, you are right as to the atti- 
tude we must take to the liquor men and the party 
we represent. But there is another element we 


2 


The Burton Manor. 


must win if possible. That is, we must make 
sure of getting them. I speak of those who are 
positive ‘Anti -Liquor’ men. Winning, of course, 
is the chief end in view, but to make doubly sure 
of this we must unite the opposing forces on some 
common point of interest. Emphasis placed here 
will be much safer than an effort to convert people 
on the points where we differ. Men in deadly com- 
bat may be separated if something is placed before 
them for which they should unitedly stand. Dif- 
ferences are soon forgotten if agreements are con- 
stantly held before the mind. To this end, then, 
we must so arrange the plank on temperance in 
our platform as to suit and soothe the minds of 
temperance people. At the same time, of course, 
we must not offend the liquor men. Words, you 
know, if rightly knitted, may be unraveled from 
both ends. ‘Be as wise as a serpent, as harm- 
less as a dove/ ” 

"I think Mr. Vaun’s suggestion is a good one 
and can be safely followed at the coming conven- 
tion. We can express our sympathy with every 
effort for the promotion of temperance, — which is 
in perfect keeping with the sentiments of liquor 
men, — at the same time it shows our agreement 
with the other side. Then there is the ‘Tariff/ 
the ‘Monetary/ and many other questions — any 
one of which can be made the central issue of the 
campaign. These are of vast importance to all 
classes of whatsoever religious views. Once get 
them aroused on these points and they will for- 
get all about their piety.” 

“And, gentlemen, after I have agreed with what 
Mr. Simpson and all the rest have said, may I 


The Burton Manor. 


3 


go a step farther? It is necessary not only not 
to offend these men of the liquor fraternity, but 
enlist their support. We must do more than keep 
quiet about our religious views, — I mean you who 
have them, — we must make some concessions and 
let these men have a definite understanding as 
to what our attitude is. Our success or defeat 
depends on the action of these men. They are de- 
manding protection, and this we can give them 
in the way of increased license, which will seem 
to temperance people a great stride in the right 
direction. This will draw for us a large num- 
ber of votes from the ranks of reformers and re- 
ligious men. Then there can be the understand- 
ing between our party and the saloon men that we 
will treat with disfavor any proposed law against 
their interests; or make them of no effect after 
they have been passed. 

“Further, gentlemen, it is of great importance 
that our conversation here to-night be kept from 
the world at large. We will go up to the conven- 
tion to advocate the views we have set forth and 
profit by these suggestions from each other.” 

“Mr. Chairman, before we close this informal 
meeting, I should like to add a few remarks to 
what Honorable Mr. Sargent has just said, and 
mention one other point which we ought to consider. 
In order to carry out the plans here mentioned, we 
must get a man at the head of our ticket who will 
be of such a character and ability as to unite the 
classes previously mentioned. He ought to be pop- 
ular enough to stand high in religious circles, and 
yet have no cranky notions or scruples that would 
hinder him from being at perfect ease in the com- 


4 


The Burton Manor. 


panv of other kinds of politicians. If we get this 
kind of a man and follow the course we have 
mapped out, victory is ours.” 

“Misther Chairman, vud you allow me to speak 
von wordt before we preak up to-night? Et is 
widt all my entrust I have listened to the spekin’ 
to-night. It is all my life I have been a saloon- 
keeper and a bruer, and many is de patties I have 
hadt to fight widt dese demperance peeples. Ever 
sinze I was my fadter’s leetle poy, I rempber dey 
habt been tryin’ to do us. But we’ve got de money 
and de law on our sidt and we meandt to holdt it 
there. Your spekin’ to-night agrees widt me bery 
much. It is not so much a question of pardty but 
vwhat will de pardty do for us, — dat is, any pardty ? 
I beleve, Mr. Chairman, and gentlemens here as- 
senbled, I can speek for all de liquor men in dis 
landt, that if you will pursue de course laidt down 
by you to-night, we will put you in power.” 

Such was the discussion carried on between a few 
politicians who met in caucus at one of the fin- 
est hotels the city afforded. The convention of 
their party was soon to meet and choose candi- 
dates for the national ticket. Hence their con- 
cern; and such it was with the leaders of the two 
leading parties in the land. It was their aim to 
make such schemes as would win for them the vic- 
tory; and, do it without a doubt long before the 
election had taken place. 

Many great men, — political leaders — were spoken 
of as aspiring to the Presidency, and the people 
everywhere were recommending their favorites. Hot 
for a number of years had there been an equal 
amount of excitement so long before the election. 


The Burton Manor. 5 

There was a general feeling of unrest and a con- 
viction had taken hold of the people that a change 
of some kind was necessary ; yet, they hardly knew 
what it ought to be. Strikes were fashionable, 
families were suffering, companies were failing, 
distress was prevalent, and crime was increasing. 
Everywhere the question “What can be done ?” was 
passed from lip to lip. “The needs of the hour/’ 
was a subject discussed even at social gatherings. 
Men gathered on street corners and in little coun- 
try stores to air their views as to the only safe 
course for the government to pursue. Even those 
indifferent sort of creatures who had never given 
more than passing attention to politics became 
aroused and were so solicitous about the outcome 
of the next election that they spent much time 
calling on and counseling their neighbors how they 
ought to vote. Preparations on every hand were 
being made for a hot battle. Both sides realized 
that plans must be most carefully laid, and skill 
to a degree never as yet manifest in the political 
world must be shown in carrying them into effect. 
The question among the leaders was not “How may 
we fairly win?” but, “How may we win?” 

Religious meetings were largely neglected be- 
cause of the excitement over party strife. Moral 
questions sank more and more into the background 
as election time drew near. And strange as it 
might sound to one unacquainted with such a con- 
dition, some ministers of the gospel dared to leave 
their flocks for a season and take the stump to make 
political speeches. Here and there dignitaries in 
the churches were heard to speak out from behind 
the sacred desk on the party issues of the day. 


6 


The Burton Manor. 


So heedless were the people to the gospel and so 
heartless was the preaching that sermons were no 
sooner spoken than forgot. Then the men would 
gather in twos and threes about the church to dis- 
cuss the latest political speech, or name some man 
whose vote they must look after. Class and 
prayer meetings were set aside till the election was 
over and the excitement had abated. No man 
cared so little for his reputation as a revivalist, 
that he would undertake to arouse the people to 
a sense of their sin and eternal interests. All such 
matters were left for some more favorable sea- 
son. The right-of-way was given to political ma- 
chines, all else stepped to one side. That spir- 
itual interests were suffering everywhere no one 
would deny save the modern “optimist” ; but the 
surprising thing was the scarcity of people who 
were grieved at these dangerous signs of the times. 

Of course, some few exceptions were found. 
But if he be a minister of the gospel it was at 
the sacrifice of his popularity and often his sal- 
ary, that he dared to speak out against the polit- 
ical sins of the day and the neglect of his peo- 
ple. If, however, he escaped punishment from his 
people, it was administered to him somewhere along 
the line of higher authority. But seldom did one 
escape the meanness of those to whom he was sup- 
posed to be “the minister of God for good.” 

We could no better show this than by repeating 
the conversation of two official members of a cer- 
tain church in the town of C , at the close of a 

service in which the heart-broken pastor had dared 
to warn his people against the political tricks of the 
times and advise them against sinful complicity 


The Burton Manor. 


7 

with men or parties which did not take a bold 
stand against the liquor traffic and kindred evils. 

It was Brother Jude, the class leader, who ap- 
proached Brother Says, a steward, and said : 

“It is very unhappy that Brother Stone could 
not have passed through this campaign without 
bringing politics into the pulpit. I fear many 
will go away offended to-day.” 

“Yes, I had warned him against such action. I 
knew his convictions, or thought I did, and at the 
same time how the men of our church were on pol- 
itics.” 

“Then, Brother Says, I must confess to you 
I feel Brother Stone makes this matter too se- 
rious. Religion and politics are two different 
things. I really am touched a little myself.” 

“Now, Brother Jude, you are expressing my sen- 
timents exactly. We do not hire a minister to give 
us advice on political matters. We are able to 
decide these things ourselves.” 

“And I feel sure Brother Stone will not vote 
with our party and that his influence in the com- 
munity will be against us. There are always a 
lot of cranks who are ready to listen to these men 
who constantly talk about taking their religion with 
them to the polls.” 

“Then, he will make it doubly hard for us stew- 
ards to collect his salary. It’s hard to beg money 
for a man when you yourself do not feel like pay- 
ing. And Til tell you right now, Brother Jude,” 
here Mr. Says brought his fist down on his knee 
in great earnestness, “I will not pay any more 
to the support of that man. Our grand old party 
needs my help, anyway.” 


8 


The Burton Manor. 


“Well, I had just about come to that conclu- 
sion myself. I feel we should appoint a commit- 
tee to wait on him, lay this matter plainly before 
him and unless he will promise to correct this 
blunder and stand by us on election day, we will 
drop him.” 

“That’s a good suggestion and we must act on 
it. I feel certain almost the entire church will 
stand by us in this matter.” 

In due time the committee was appointed and 
waited on the Rev. Mr. Stone. They found him 
polite and courteous and so gentle, that it was a 
greater task to reveal the object of their visit than 
they had supposed. But after they had passed 
the time of day and a little pause occurred in the 
conversation, Mr. Julius, the speaker of the com- 
mittee and the chairman of the board of trustees, 
began by saying: 

“Well, Brother Stone, we come to you this even- 
ing as a committee appointed by the members of 
the church to inform you of our disapproval of 
your sermon last Sunday morning.” 

Rev. Mr. Stone was a man of somewhat nerv- 
ous disposition and usually became just a little 
excited when taken by surprise, but not so at this 
time. He had guessed the object of their visit — 
so was over his nervous spell. In fact, the quiet, 
earnest way in which he met their objections was 
the one thing which came so near disconcerting 
them. To the above he only answered by inquir- 
ing: 

“And was there anything unchristian in my 
manner of address?” 

“N-n-n-no, not exactly that,” stammered the 


The Burton Manor. 


9 


speaker of the committee ; ‘‘but we don’t think onr 
politics is any of your business, and we have come 
to demand a public correction from you.” 

“And what shall I correct, my dear brother? 
You yourself acknowledge that I have said noth- 
ing unchristian. Is not anything that is Christian 
a fit thing for the pulpit?” 

“But we want the simple gospel and you will 
find out that we do not hire a preacher to med- 
dle with things that do not concern him. We will 
hold you for an apology.” 

“I assure you in all sincerity, I stand ready to 
apologize for anything I have done or said that is 
wrong; but you have failed to show me wherein 
such has been the case. And as for meddling, 
anything which concerns you concerns me as your 
pastor. I speak freely of your home life, your 
relations as husband and wife, as parents and chil- 
dren, and you sanction all I say. Surely if there 
is anything in all the realm of thought which is 
your own private concern and which I should let 
alone, it is your home life. But if you give me 
the right to speak of these things in the pulpit, 
why haven’t I the right to speak of your politics? 
— a thing that belongs to me as well as you ?” 

Then the same glow of earnestness came to Bev. 
Mr. Stone’s face that always shone there when 
preaching, as he continued: 

“My brother, you must understand that I am 
a citizen of this country, and am concerned about 
its future welfare as every true Christian is. It 
is not a question of what shall become of my party, 
but what shall become of my country.” 

This was logic and truth boiled down. The 


10 


The Burton Manor. 


committee could no longer stand such fire as this; 
so after some angry words and threats they left; 
not, however, till they had assured Mr. Stone that 
the matter would not stop with this. They re- 
ported to higher authorities and this faithful man 
was listed as an unsuccessful pastor and at the an- 
nual meeting of his church treated accordingly. 


The Burton Manor. 


II 


CHAPTER II. 

Related closely with the condition we have de- 
scribed was an incident in the beautiful city of 

B , in the State of M ■, which, together with 

surrounding events, attracted widespread attention 
and in this connection deserves special notice. I 
said an incident, but it was more properly a chain 
of incidents. These I have recorded from time 
to time, and to my surprise, when I view them to- 
gether, there is a real, living relation between them. 
So it seems more fitting to place them in one con- 
nected whole rather than give them separate. 

This, however, will take us back some little time 
previous to that which we set out to tell. It is that 
time before the election when all primaries have 
been held and the race for office begins in real ear- 
nest. 

Mr. Joseph P. Burton, around whose home and 
life much of our story clusters, had been chosen 
by the Republican party as candidate for Con- 
gress. He was a man who stood high in the es- 
timation of his party and the people. As a busi- 
ness man he had been successful and had gathered 
about him considerable wealth. He had perhaps 
the most beautiful home in the city, — located some- 
what away from the business center and occupy- 
ing one entire block. A beautiful grove of orig- 
inal forest trees grew about the palatial house. To 
this had been added the skill of masons, sculptors 


12 


The Burton Manor. 


and florists, and all else that tended to perfect 
the exquisiteness of the surroundings. All these 
things, of course, had a certain prestige, and the 
Republican party thought they could not make 
a mistake by selecting such a man for the head of 
their ticket. 

It must be remembered, however, that the dis- 
trict was democratic and that, with few exceptions, 
they had elected their ticket in full for years. 
So, if the tide were turned, it would be no lit- 
tle accomplishment and that would mean no lit- 
tle work. Then the Democrats were making a 
special effort to get men for their ticket that would 
grade in every respect with their opponents. They 
were none the less active, neither, because they 
had held the ground for so many years. Every 
old fort was rebuilt and every new point was for- 
tified. It was the least of their intention to give 
up the ground till it had been fairly won. 

So Burton and his colleagues had a long, hard 
battle before them. 

The wise traveler will always stop at the top 
of the hill where the breeze blows freshest and 
coolest before he begins the descent into the deep, 
dark, close valley. So, let us pause before we 
enter the shadow of election scenes to become bet- 
ter acquainted with the Burton home and espe- 
cially the Burton family. 

I take it that the home is the fountain-head of 
the hope that “springs eternal in the human 
breast.” It is earth’s fittest type of heaven. From 
it, cool, soft breezes blow to soothe the aching, 
feverish brows of men. It warms their hearts 
when chilled, it stimulates when weak, and best 


The Burton Manor. 13 

of all, it is a place of refuge when the winds be- 
come too bleak for mortal courage to endure. 

Let us, then, with profound gratitude enter the 
sacred precincts of the home, where, in the course 
of our story, we shall be compelled to linger much. 

This family was well known in the city of 

B •, their present home, also in the place where 

they had formerly lived. They were just such a 
family as would fit into society anywhere they 
might drop. No time or money had been spared 
in their education and preparation for places of 
rank. And with it had been given a moral train- 
ing that was akin to the best. They were mem- 
bers of the Methodist Episcopal Church, and Mr. 
Burton was one of the official board. He did not, 
however, believe in lopping off the pleasures of 
the world and held stoutly to the view, that there 
was no harm in cards or the social glass. In this 
he was opposed by his wife and Buby, the old- 
est daughter, who were strict attendants at church 
and influential in religious circles in general. But 
on the father’s side was Claude, a grown son, who 
had not only graduated at one of the best schools 
of the land, but had taken his special course in 
law at Yale, and was now ready to enter upon 
his life’s work. In fact, at the time we propose 
to begin our acquaintance with this family, Claude 
had taken his leave of home for the chief city of 
a neighboring state to begin practise. This, how- 
ever, had been planned by Mr. and Mrs. Burton 
without Buby knowing it. They wished to get him 
away from his associates for reasons of which she 
was ignorant. 

Up to this time Buby and Claude had clung to 


14 The Burton Manor. 

each other with a tenderness of love that very sel- 
dom even characterizes brother and sister. There 
was but two years difference in their ages, Claude 
being the older. In the same class they had gone 
through common school, high school and then re- 
ceived their diplomas at the same time in college. 
So, when they must part, it was a great trial. Es- 
pecially was it so with Ruby, who was naturally 
the more affectionate natured. Then it was easier 
for Claude because he was anxious to get out in 
the world and start for the ideal of which he had 
so long dreamed. 

But there were others in the family whom we 
must not forget. Faunia and Jamie, “The Pets,” 
as Mr. Burton called them. They were only aged 
three and five respectively, but had thoroughly es- 
tablished their claims to a good, large place in the 
household and family cares. And one might think 
from their orders, that, about all the rest had to 
do, was to wait on them. No matter what was 
going on or being done, they were always there 
to get in the way and ask questions. The home, 
though little short of a mansion, was too small 
to have a special room for their toys and rocking- 
horses, they had the right-of-way in the whole 
house. Sunny by nature, made happy by Provi- 
dence, they sang about like two larks. IJpstairs, 
downstairs, out-doors, then in, through the parlor, 
in the kitchen, romping, rolling, shouting, laughing, 
sometimes crying, teasing, coaxing, bantering, all 
through the day the merry noise was kept up. No 
time to be blue or lonesome; no, no, two chil- 
dren of this kind would dash such things to the 
floor in a moment and break them to atoms. They 


The Burton Manor. 


15 

were the sunshine for cloudy days, brightness that 
never grew dim; the light that sweetly, soothingly 
followed the parents into the darkest places in life 
and hopefully kissed and caressed till courage 
should rise again and the battle of life was once 
more renewed. 

There are still others in the home of whom 
we must speak. They had been there so long 
that they considered themselves necessarily a 
part of the family. I speak of Ruphus, “the 
boy,” and Marge, “the girl,” as they were char- 
acterized by the family. They were original crea- 
tures and often from their talk, one might think 
the whole responsibility of the Burton home rested 
on them. 

“Tell yu. Marge,” Ruphus was heard to say, 
“I don’t know how dese heah Burtons wud git 
Tong wifout us.” 

“Well, Ruphus, dis ol’ niggah is goin’ t’ weah 
out some 0’ dese days, an’ dey will haf t’ git ’long 
wifout her.” 

“Now, Marge, yu’s jist trying’ t’ make dis ol’ 
heart feel bad. Ef yu was t’ die an’ dey was t’ 
git some white trash ’round heah, I’se ’fraid oil 
Ruphus wud see puty hard times. Dere’d be no 
peacin’ atween meals.” 

“Well, dun-no; oil Marge don feel much lik’ 
livin’ when she woaks hahd troo de long days o’ 
summer, washun, inon, cookin’ and cleanin’ up 
’round, den hef t’ woak half de night. Den dese 
’lection times, my how much woak dey make fer 
oil Marge ! Lawse-mercy, chil’, it’s hahd to fin’ 
’nuff nuw t’ings t’ cook fer dese big men dat come 
t’ see Masser Burton dese days.” 


1 6 


The Burton Manor. 


“Yes, ’n it piles extra lots on oil Ruphus, too, 
puttin’ up hosses an’ stayin’ up late in de night 
till Masser comes home t’ caah fer his hoss: den 
up brite an’ early next moanin’ t’ hich up agin’ fer 
’im.” 

“Tell yu what, Ruphus, Masser Burton suhly 
goin’ t’ be ’lected. Jist see de big men dat comes 
’round heah, an’ de ’ceptions he gives. My ! he 
must know l6ts ov peeple an’ dey must think lots 
ov him.” 

“Yes, an’ den. Marge, out on de streets dey 
jis whoop at Masser Burton an’ dey yell his nam’ 
like he was de Presidunt. I tell yu’, I’d lik’ t’ 
be Masser Burton.” 

Ruphus and Marge had never been in slavery, 
yet they had all the devotion, all that dependent, 
appealing affection which characterized the ne- 
gro that, in the days of slavery, found a good mas- 
ter. So they became very much interested in what 
they thought was of interest to their master. 

The campaign was now moving forward with 
a bound. Mr. Burton became more and more 
popular with the people. He spent most of his 
time day and night electioneering. Many were 
the political meetings in his home. Wine flowed 
freely and often sparkled in the cup till the mid- 
night hour had worn away. Mrs. Burton, by na- 
ture, a quiet, earnest disposition, often grew weary 
with the noise of the gatherings, and expressed 
apprehensions to Ruby that it might lead to the 
formation of habits never to be overcome. Often 
she thought Mr. Burton unusually talkative, and 
at times, when returning late at night, she thought 
him more than usually gruff and blunt. 


The Burton Manor. 17 

“But, I suppose,” she would say to Ruby, “he 
is worried over the task he has undertaken. I 
think he will be himself again when the election is 
over.” 

“Mother, dear,” Ruby would answer, with a gen- 
tle stroke of her hand across the mother’s brow, 
“you must not worry about these things. These 
are very trying times on papa.” 

So they were, but Mrs. Burton’s fears were well 
founded, as will be seen by what follows. 

The grandest rally of the season had been held 
in the city during the day, followed by public 
speaking and fireworks at night. Mr. Burton did 
not return for his supper, as was his custom; so 
Mrs. Burton grew more uneasy than before. It 
was a late hour, but she sat waiting for his re- 
turn. Of a sudden, she heard the clump of a 
half-dozen feet on the front veranda and the mut- 
tering of senseless tongues came in through the 
door. She opened the door that she might in 
gentleness receive her overworked companion and 
help, if possible, by kindness and sympathy, to re- 
lieve his burden. But, ye guardian angels ! who 
could describe what met her eyes? Before her 
stood three men. Two of them to her were 
strangers, one on either side, red-faced, dull-eyed 
they were, and Mr. Burton helplessly intoxicated 
in the middle supported on their arms. Mrs. Bur- 
ton, already worn out by hours of anxiety and 
watching, fell to the floor with a pitiful wail that 
has never yet found expression in words. 

Her cry and the boisterous voices of the men 
awoke Ruby, who was on the scene in less time 
than it takes to tell it. She called Marge and 


i8 


The Burton Manor. 


Ruphus and they carried Mrs. Burton to a couch, 
then Ruphus hastened to summon Dr. Blake. 

One of the men as soon as he could get Ruby’s 
attention, said: “I say, Miss, we must have some 
place to lay your father.” 

They were shown quickly the way to a back bed- 
room, where waited a down-pillowed, cleanly-cov- 
ered bed, fit to bring rest to the most wearied mind 
that ever slept, — fit for a king, but not fit for a 
drunkard. 

By the time the men returned to the front part 
of the house Mrs. Burton had been restored to 
consciousness. As they stepped into her presence, 
she said : “How dare you bring my husband home 
in this sad plight?” 

“Never mind,” answered one, with a satanic 
smile, nothing daunted by the words of a broken- 
hearted wife, “never mind, that’s nauthing. He 
jist got a little too much rye. He’ll be all right 
by morning.” 

The other, a more intelligent-looking man, was, 
at least, a little more gentle in his explanation. 

“You know,” he said, “these are things that 
go along with elections. I do not think }^ou ought 
to take it so to heart. It is necessary to win the 
day, and it will do him no harm when it is all 
over.” 

“My dear sir,” replied Mrs. Burton, weakly, 
“this to me is more than a mere incident. It por- 
tends things which angels blush to know.” 

The physician, knowing the seriousness of Mrs. 
Burton’s condition, that she might be quiet re- 
quested all to leave the room except Ruby and 
Marge. He watched closely for some time the 


The Burton Manor. 


19 


nervous tossing of the head and the deep heaving 
of the breast, then sat down and issued out some 
medicine. This done he called Ruby into a room 
apart, for she was her mother’s nurse, that he might 
instruct her in giving the medicine. He spoke 
in undertones that no word might reach the 
mother’s ears. 

“Miss Burton, your mother is in a dangerous 
condition and it will be necessary to guard her 
room carefully that nothing excites her. The 
powders will induce sleep, you will find directions 
on the box. Then the bottle has some whiskey 
in it, she must have a stimulant.” 

At this Ruby stepped back as though the man 
had dared to strike her. Then lifting her large, 
earnest eyes to him, she said : 

“Dr. Blake, would you dare to leave that venom- 
ous stuff in our home? It has already bitten my 
father and he lies yonder more dead than alive. 
Ho, indeed; not one drop shall be administered to 
mother, whose heart it has already broken.” 

“But, Miss Burton, you understand it is a good 
thing in its place, and that it is an absolute ne- 
cessity to the medical profession. Unless you fol- 
low my directions, I fear very much the conse- 
quence of this shock on your mother’s nerves. If 
you place your knowledge above mine, you must 
be responsible for the results, not I.” 

“Dr. Blake, I do not mean to place my knowl- 
edge of medicine above yours, but great men of 
your profession have given decisions, which we 
can well follow on some points. The ill-ef- 
fects of alcohol have been fully set forth. And 
that there are other stimulants far better than it 


20 


The Burton Manor. 


in after-results has been demonstrated beyond con- 
troversy. Their reputation is world-wide.” Then 
her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkled, as she 
added, with a tinge of sarcasm: “Dr. Blake, do 
you mean to place your knowledge above theirs ?” 

“No, but I mean to be independent in my field 
of action. I will not follow the judgment of 
cranks !” 

These words were spoken spitefully. It was 
clear to Ruby that the doctor was indignant, so 
she made no answer. She had said sufficient and 
meant to follow it to the letter. This Dr. Blake 
knew from her tone and earnest spirit. But it 
was a new experience for him. 

He had now been located in that city for three 
years, and that meant three years out of school, 
for he came direct from college to this place. His 
practise had built up so rapidly and he was be- 
coming so popular with the people that he had come 
to the conclusion that he knew a great deal. Well, 
he did. His education was complete, and that he 
had been unusually successful for a young man, no 
one could deny. His word had become authority 
to the people among whom he practised. So it 
stung his pride for a young lady to refuse to fol- 
low his directions about medicine. 

Then it was a lecture on temperance that he did 
not care to hear. 

He went away from the Burton home nervous 
and excited. The relation between him and the 
family had been a close one and he had learned to 
esteem highly “Miss Ruby,” as he called her. He 
recognized her as having the very best culture, a 
beautiful character and a strong mind. To change 


The Burton Manor. 


21 


his prescription now would be humiliating, but 
to have anything come between him and the Bur- 
ton family meant the loss of one of his best pa- 
tients. It was a question whether to follow pol- 
icy or pride. 

Not so with the girl who had dared to speak 
the sentiment of her soul to so popular a man as 
Dr. Blake. It was not policy nor pride; it was 
knowledge and conscience with her. No worry 
came to her from the words between them. She 
felt herself able to do as much and many times 
more for her mother’s broken heart than whiskey 
could do. She returned to the bedside and printed 
tenderly a kiss on her mother’s pale forehead, then 
settled down in an easy-chair near by to watch for 
the rest of the night. 

“You may go to bed, Marge, poor, tired soul, 
I’ll watch mamma till morning.” 

“Bless you, chil’, I feels like sleepin’ forever, but 
if Misses needs me, Marge will stay till she drops.” 
Then in an undertone, she added, “Kind o’ seems 
to me like it’s purty near dangerous to sleep ’round 
heah dese days.” 

“That will do now, Marge, go on to your bed. 
It must be kept quiet in mamma’s room for a while. 
Good-night.” 

“Very well.” 

“What shall I do, what shall I do,” many times 
she cried in the agony of her heart, “when papa 
returns to sensibility. What if he were to come 
in while we are alone in the night ?” 

Then she sat down and tried to picture the whole 
thing before her mind. She tried to imagine the 
consequence if her father were to rise in his 


22 The Burton Manor. 

drunken deliriousness and come into the room. She 
went several times to the door of the room, where 
he lay dressed across the bed to listen to his heavy 
breathing. It seemed to her, as she expressed it 
afterwards, “That the angel of sleep was having 
a hard struggle to keep the demon of alcohol from 
dragging her father into the very abyss.” Her feel- 
ings were a mixture of grief and disgust. With all 
the tenderness of her being she loved her father still. 
But she could not refrain from asking, — it was no 
mark of unfilial respect — “Does father not care for 
us ? does he forget our reputation is at stake ? does 
he not care how much sorrow he brings to us?” 

A number of times she was almost certain her 
father was climbing out of bed and coming to their 
room. Her heart almost stood still. How could 
she prevent it? It must not take place. She was 
ready to run for Marge, but fortunately she was 
mistaken, he did not come. 

At short intervals during the night Mrs. Bur- 
ton would wake as with a fright. 

“I am with you, mamma,” Ruby was always 
ready to say. 

“Yes, dear,” was the only reply. 


The Burton Manor. 


23 


CHAPTER III. 

r 

The scene at the Burton home next morning 
was one long to be remembered. Back in the sum- 
mer kitchen sat Ruphus and Marge talking in sanc- 
timonious tones. 

“I tells yu, Marge, dese are troubless times/’ said 
Ruphus, as he sat with his elbows resting on his 
knees waiting for breakfast. “It ’peers like ever’- 
body’s wild. Den Masser Burton don’t seem like 
he use to.” 

“Yes, Ruphus, dis niggah’s heart has hurt foah 
a long time. I notice Misses’s been troubled ’bout 
som’thin’ and I nevah ’spicioned what it was ’till 
we’s called in last night.” 

“I knowed Masser Burton was treatin’ lots of 
men, fer I found his jug in de hay mo we, where 
I seed him go wid so many fellars ; but sakes ! I 
never dremt he was tastin’ ob it hiself.” 

“Tell yu, Marge feels sorry fer oil Misses when 
Masser gits up dis blessed mornin’.” 

“Yes, fer dese niggahs, too; dey’ll hab to stan’ 
’round. Masser won’t give me time t’ breave t’ 
git his hoss in. Dis niggah hussle and jist come 
back pantin’ foh life, den Masser scold ’cause I’se 
so slow. Lawse ! can’t please him dese days.” 

“An’ old Marge’ll hev a purty time gittin’ breck- 
fus’ fass enough. Wish she had fouh han’s and 
fouh feet, I’d please him once.” 


24 


The Burton Manor. 


“Tell yu dis whiskey deys a-makin’ now is a 
mad stuff. It makes men go mad and feel like 
killin’.” 

“Say, chil’, did yu heah about John Hardiman 
an’ his wife de oder day? Well, de neybors dere 
blame her fer it all. She’s been learnin’ to drink 
dis long time, an’ de oder day she bought some 
whiskey ’r beer ’r something, I don’t know what 
it was, anyway, it made her so drunk dat she 
wanted t’ fight. She run her new man out ov 
de house an’ like t’ beat de life out ov him. An’ 
ever’body says he’s as good a niggah as dere is in 
dis town. She chopped him wid de hoe till he 
jis’ bled an’ bled, an’ de neybors run ovah an’ 
took her off. Well, dey ’rested her for ’sault an’ 
battery an’ put her in jail.” 

“Ah ! Marge, it makes dis oil heart burn t’ heah 
what dis whiskey ’s doin’ fer de people.” 

“An’ it don’t leave de collod folks alone, neithah. 
I’se told dat Tom Doggins, dat de white folks 
buhned las’ summah wouldn’t hev ’saulted dat 
woman ef he had not been ’toxicated. Oh ! Ruphus, 
dis is awful wo’ld.” 

These poor, ignorant creatures sat and dis- 
cussed this matter in a half-serious, half- jocular 
manner for more than half an hour. But it was 
not so in the other part of the house. 

Morning dawned most lovely. The sun rose in 
unequalled splendor. The bright-tinted autumn 
leaves reflected its glory in almost every imagina- 
ble color. The air was fresh and cool, laden with 
the odor of the fallen leaves. The cement walks, 
the gravelled driveways, the beds of autumn flow- 
ers, the arching boughs dripping with gold and 


The Burton Manor. 25 

red, made it a paradise in miniature. Without, all 
was beautiful and bright, — all within was gloom. 

With the first dawn of morning Mrs. Burton 
woke from her deep slumber and looked 'round as 
if wondering where she was. Ruby was at her side 
with a caress and words of cheer. 

“Mamma, dear, what shall we get for your break- 
fast ? You are surely hungry, — you look so tired." 

“Nothing as yet, my daughter. Is your father 
awake ?" 

“Not yet; and so soundly has he slept for the 
last two hours that he does not move a muscle. 
The poison has taken deep hold on him this time, 
and it is well nigh taking his life. How kind is 
Providence to send the angel Sleep to struggle 
with the powers of darkness and death till tired 
nature is restored, then drag back to consciousness 
our rested forms." 

“It may be weakness in me, Ruby, to give way 
thus to my grief, but it has been lying so close 
to my heart for many days that it has become more 
than I can bear." 

With these words Mrs. Burton sobbed pitifully 
as she tried to master the weight that was crush- 
ing the life from her body. 

“There, mamma, do not weep. The campaign 
will soon be over, then maybe papa will once more 
be himself again." 

“For several weeks, Ruby," continued Mrs. Bur- 
ton, “I have felt sure your father was drinking 
very hard. I've tried to keep it from you chil- 
dren as long as 1 could. I did hope it might never 
come to this. You know. Ruby, we are members 
of the Church, and I have wondered a great deal 


2 6 


The Burton Manor. 


of late what Dr. Lear would do with us. It would 
be humiliating, indeed, for him to bring charges 
against your father for drunkenness and turn him 
out of church. ” 

“Yes, it would be a disgrace frcm which we could 
never recover. Do you really think there is any 
danger of it, mamma ?” 

“When we look at it from an impartial stand- 
point it seems he should. No drunkard is fit for 
a membership in the Church. And yet, we shrink 
from such a thing. Who would have thought six 
months ago that we would be brought into this 
disgraceful notice before the public?” 

“I admit it is almost crushing, but, mamma, 
dear, you are not able to think about this. Will 
you not let us fix you some nice breakfast?” 

It was next to impossible for Ruby to suppress 
the grief that bubbled in her heart. But she knew 
it would not do to give vent to it. “Poor mamma,” 
as she would call her in speaking to others, had all 
she could bear. And it was well nigh more than 
she could bear when Faunia and Jamie came in, 
still in their night clothes, to express, with bulg- 
ing eyes, their astonishment at mamma being in 
bed. 

“Mamma, fot’s you in bed for?” inquired Fau- 
nia. 

Mamma had always been up to receive them and 
wait on them at breakfast. 

“I did not know you were sick, mamma,” said 
Jamie, sympathetically, as he laid his hand on 
her cheek. 

“I’ll be dood to-day, mamma, en you won’t haf 
to run after me or talk at me while you is sick,” 


The Burton Manor. 


27 

promised Faunia, as she shook her curly head. "I’ll 
help make you well.” 

"Where’s papa, mamma?” inquired Jamie. 

"He’s still in bed,” answered Ruby. 

"Ho! ho! ho! papa in bed yet? Oh, sister! 
sister ! we beat papa up, ho ! ho ! ho !” 

"Yes, and maybe papa’ll take us out in the cay- 
iage ’is mo’ning,” suggested curly-headed Faunia. 

This had been his custom and the innocent child- 
mind could not dream of anything else. There 
was not the least suspicion in their minds that 
papa’s late sleeping was due to anything on his part 
that would make him less a papa, — less able to 
love them. 

Mrs. Burton had noticed for two or three weeks 
past that he paid less and less attention to his pets. 
And at times he had been unusually crabbed and 
snarly with them. 

"Oh! Ruby, Ruby,” sobbed Mrs. Burton, as she 
wiped the tears from her eyes, after Faunia and 
Jamie had gone into another room, "it nearly 
breaks my heart to think of those innocent babes 
ever having to learn that papa, the idol of their 
lives, was untrue and threw his life away by strong 
drink.” 

"There is another, mamma, dear, to whom I do 
not see how I can ever be able to tell this canker- 
ing disgrace. It has been a burden to me through 
all the long hours of the night as I watched by 
your bedside. I could not but recall the happy 
days of but a few weeks ago, at least it seems so, 
when Claude and I had just returned from school 
for the summer vacation. ’Mid all the excite- 
ment of our college days and the beauty of our 


28 


The Burton Manor. 


surroundings we ofttimes wished we were at home. 
How often we spoke of it as we walked for the 
evening. Home, home, the paradise of the world. 
Papa was so kind and jolly, — the merriest one of 
the gay crowd that gathered to greet us. Not 
only was it so then but he was always lively. And 
now, mamma, how can I ever break the news to 
Claude how things have changed?” 

“I do not know, dear; it is more than I can 
bear.” 

At this Mrs. Burton sank on her pillow pale 
with anguish of heart. Ruby sat for some little 
time with her face buried in a pillow on the edge 
of the bed. But she soon remembered how much 
depended on her courage and ability to hold up 
an unbearable burden, so she commanded her feel- 
ings and sought to draw her mother's thoughts 
to something else. She knew how sure a cure 
for worried nerves was change of thought. Ruby 
had come to believe that to change one's mind you 
changed them altogether. 

“Did I tell you, mamma, about my letter from 
Reba Bunton, one of my old chums at school ?” 

“I do not remember if you did, my dear.” 

“Well, she is back at school this year. You see 
she was only a Sophomore when I graduated; so 
she has this and another year. She was telling 
me how delightful the year began. They had a 
fine reception in the parlors of the Ladies’ Hall 
for the new Professors and students. I know it 
must have been a grand time and I almost wished 
I were back in college, at least for the time being. 
I would love so much to see all the girls and spend 
an evening or two with them as we used to.” 


The Burton Manor. 


29 

“You have been so faithful to home duties, "Ruby, 
that I feel we should arrange a vacation for you 
to visit the girls at school.” 

“Oh ! that would be so nice. And I should like 
to visit Laura Nelson at her home in the city of 
Columbus. You have heard me speak of her quite 
often. She and I graduated at the same time and 
it was like leaving a sister when we had to part. 
Then I know Claude thought a great deal of her. 
They have kept up a correspondence to the present 
time. Not only that, but I have a sly notion, 
mamma, that they are engaged to be married. 
Claude, perhaps, does not care to write it to me, 
but I know he will tell me if it be true when he 
comes home.” 

“From what I have heard you say of Miss Nel- 
son, I think Claude would do well, indeed, to get 
her. Why not so arrange it as to have Claude be 
there at the same time and spend a few days to- 
gether ?” 

“Nothing could be more delightful than that;” 
this Ruby spoke with much animation, “but I fear 
Claude could not get time to go. You know he 
spoke of how busy they were. A good portion of 
the time they have to work till twelve and one 
o’clock at night. They have such an immense 
practise — I fear Claude will break down under it. 
He ought to take a vacation.” 

“When would it best suit you to go?” 

“Well, I do not want to go till you get well, 
mamma. Then it would take me some time to 
get ready after that. But I should like to go as 
soon as possible while the trees are so beautiful. 
It looks so drear when the leaves have fallen.” 


30 


The Burton Manor. 


“I will soon be well again and we will begin 
arranging at once for you to go.” 

Ruby’s attempt to draw her mother’s mind away 
from her troubles had been successful and she felt 
much gratified. But she herself had well nigh 
lost thought of the situation in talking of things 
so pleasant. The time was slipping away faster 
than either of them supposed, so they were sur- 
prised when they turned to the clock. 

“Oh! mamma, it is eight o’clock and we have 
not been to breakfast yet. What shall we pre- 
pare for you?” 

Just then there was heard a noise in the back 
bedroom and Ruby went to see how her father was 
getting along. Sleep had mastered the demon in 
him at last and he was getting up. But his eyes 
were so bleared and swollen and his face wore such 
an expression of disgust that Ruby did not feel 
like approaching him in her usual filial manner. 
Not that she had lost any of her love for him, but 
he had taken such an attitude toward his whole 
family that they had to love in fear. They were 
afraid to express freely their sympathy for him, 
for they did not know how he would take it. 

“The demons that infest strong drink,” said 
Ruby, “are so varied that you cannot tell how they 
will take the man.” 

After some little time Mr. Burton had fully 
aroused his drowsy powers. He washed and combed 
then walked slowly into the living-room. He was 
surely conscious that a different atmosphere filled 
all the house that morning. He did not hear the 
first thing, as usual, the cheerful voices of Faunia 
and Jamie. When Marge had taken them out to 


The Burton Manor. 


3i 


breakfast, it was with orders to keep them out to 
play that they might not disturb the worn-out 
mother. But it was much more that they might 
not be present when the father should wake. 

“It is hard to tell what lurking mood some child- 
ish question might arouse and thus bring upon 
us all a storm of rebuke / 5 said Mrs. Burton to 
Ruby. 

Every precaution was taken to prevent the meet- 
ing of Mr. Burton with his family that morning 
from being such as would give occasion for him 
to feel slurred or slighted. 

“The one thing / 5 said Mrs.- Burton when Ruby 
returned and told her the father was getting up, 
“I am very sorry about, is, that I cannot be up 
to greet him and seem cheerful and well. But 
we’ll do our best not to be abrupt with papa . 55 

Mr. Burton finding no one in the living-room 
proceeded to the dining-room. There he encoun- 
tered Marge, who was just straightening up the 
table. 

“What you got the house so dark for ? 55 he asked 
in tones that were filled with grumble. “Why 
don’t you put up the blinds and raise the windows 
and let some air in ? 55 

“Lawse mercy, Masser, I jis 5 ist moment come 
int 5 dis heah room. I 5 se been stayin’ in de kisshen 
quiet on o’count ov Misses . 55 

“What’s the matter of your Misses, and where 
is she?” 

“Oh ! lawse, lawse, Masser, she’s in de side bed- 
room.” 

As soon as Mr. Burton heard this he went to the 


32 


The Burton Manor. 


bedroom, and seemed very much astonished to 
find his wife sick in bed. 

“Good morning, papa,” cheerfully said Buby. 
“Fve turned out to be nurse. Do you not think 
I make a good one ?” 

“Oh-h, I guess you will do,” he answered, in such 
an unappreciative tone that it almost chilled Buby. 
Then stepping a little closer he inquired : tfr Why, 
when did you get sick? Were you not well when 
I went away yesterday?” 

“Oh, I was not exactly sick, but did not feel 
well,” answered Mrs. Burton, thus avoiding part 
of his question, if possible. 

“Have you had medicine yet?” he asked. 

“Yes, papa,” answered Buby for her mother, see- 
ing how the tone of the question affected her ; “the 
doctor was here in the night. He said mamma 
must be kept quiet for a few days and shut in 
from all possible noise.” 

“Well,” was the only answer he made. 

Then he turned and left the house conscious, it 
was evident, though a word had not been said about 
it, that his wife was nervously prostrated. And 
what’s more he undoubtedly perceived it was due 
to the events of the past few weeks. He was suf- 
fering awful compunctions of conscience, it was 
written on his very face. The recent past must 
have been before him like a panorama. And he 
was far too intelligent, though his mind was dead- 
ened by drink, not to conjecture what the result 
might be. But it would seem there was no thought 
of reform. Instead, he threw himself anew into 
the excitement of the times and lost sight of the 
trouble at home. 


The Burton Manor. 


33 


He went from the sick room to the summer 
kitchen. There he found Buphus and Marge wait- 
ing orders from higher authority. Strange to say, 
he said not a word about breakfast to Marge, but 
turned to Buphus and spoke to him with an in- 
tonation that fairly made “the boy” bounce from 
his chair. 

“Buphus, get me the little black horse and do 
not be all day about it as usual. Put him to the 
road cart.” 

Buphus, in his excitement, could not find his 
hat. He had thrown it down and forgot where 
it was. He scrambled and stumbled around, pretty 
nearly falling over some pots, and upset a bucket 
of water in the middle of the floor. 

fc Whah on earf, Marge, is my oil hat ?” 

“Dunno, child, speck you’ve left it out doahs 
somewhah.” 

At this Mr. Burton hollowed out: “Buphus, you 
confounded tortoise, are you never going to start 
after that horse for me? If I get in there now 
I’ll help you off.” 

“Wall, Masser, I can’t find my hat.” 

“Go without it, you loon, you will not get 
tanned.” 

Buphus did not linger longer, but struck off bare- 
headed toward the barn. 

While he was after the horse, Mr. Sanders, a 
prominent politician, also chairman of Mr. Bur- 
ton’s home county, came up to the walk and told 
Mr. Burton what the plans for the day were. 
Buphus returned soon, the two gentlemen climbed 
into the buggy and drove away. 

Strange conduct for a man who but a short time 


34 


The Burton Manor. 


since was noted for his devotion to his family. He 
did not even so much as return to the sick room 
of his wife to inquire if he might look after any- 
thing for them or do anything to help them before 
starting on the rounds of the day. Neither did 
he make any inquiry after Faunia and Jamie. Yet 
their absence that morning was very noticeable. 
They had been sent to play on the farther side 
of the house and had forgotten how they intended to 
laugh at papa for sleeping so late. 

But he could not get away without them know- 
ing it. As he drove out toward the street, they 
spied him from the farther side of the yard and 
started at full speed to meet him. Jamie was first 
to see and as he started to run he cried: “Sister, 
sister, there goes papa.” 

Faunia followed as fast as she could hollow- 
ing: “Papa, oh, papa! we beat ” 

J ust then she stumbled and fell, rolling heels 
over head in the grass and begun to cry. Jamie 
ran back to help her but by the time they got 
straightened up, “papa” had reached the avenue 
and was driving away without the usual “good- 
bye.” 

Well, the two men were off for the day, and 
natural enough their conversation turned to the 
events of the preceding day. 

“I tell you. Burton,” began Mr. Sanders, “that 
speech of Pritchard’s yesterday was a winner. I 
dare say he has made for us two hundred votes 
in the county. We could well afford to give him 
five hundred dollars for coming.” 

“Yes, that would be cheap enough. I would 
be willing to give that much out of my own pocket 


The Burton Manor. 


35 


for two hundred more votes.” Then after a few 
moments* silence Mr. Burton continued: “His 
speech was well gotten-up. I was really amused at 
the way he got round some points which cranks 
are harping about ; and he did it so as not to offend 
them.” 

“The way he met the temperance people on shut- 
ting down the distilleries by showing how it would 
give no market for grain, struck those old greedy 
farmers hard. Then he made about the same point 
to the city folks by showing how they would have 
to pay for street improvements and public schools 
out of their pockets if the saloons were closed. They 
would not have the handsome pile coming in from 
license they now get for public uses. Men’s hearts 
are in their pocketbooks ; if you want to touch them 
you must feel there.” There was nothing said for 
perhaps two minutes, then he continued: “I tell 
you. Burton, the saloon-keepers are doing more to 
improve the country than all other classes put to- 
gether.” 

“Y-e-s-s,” was all Mr. Burton could say. 

It was pretty hard for him to sanction such 
sweeping assertions as that about the saloon so 
soon after having taken an active part in church 
affairs. He was somewhat languid when Mr. San- 
ders approached the liquor question. It was get- 
ting close to home, and it brought a sick wife to 
his mind. But Sanders was determined to laugh 
him out of his mood and get him beyond where he 
would be so backward about defending the power 
upon which they so much depended. So when 
Mr. Burton answered the way he did, Sanders gave 
a hearty laugh, and said in a jocular way: “Well, 


The Burton Manor. 


36 

tell me, Burton, how did you get along last night 
after I left you? I suppose the old woman ran 
you out of the house with the broomstick, — eh ?” 

Mr. Burton’s face grew scarlet. He drew up 
the reins and brought the horse to a standstill, and 
turning in his seat so as to squarely face Mr. San- 
ders, he said: “Look here, Sanders, I’ve been 
pretty bad for the past month or more, but you’ll 
not speak of my wife in that disrepectful way 

again ” Here he stopped as though becoming 

suddenly conscious that he had made a mistake. 

“Well, it’s worth ten dollars to see you drunk, 
Burton. The way you act and talk is enough to 
kill.” 

Burton had now become calm and serious. 

“What do you suppose the people will think 
about it? Will there be lots of them who will 
refuse to vote for me because I got drunk?” 

“Awh, no ! Oh ! there may be a few ; but for 
every one you lose because of that, you will gain 
ten back. You mark what I tell you. That crowd 
of fellows you treated last night in Duncan’s sa- 
loon were very near half Democrats, and I heard 
several of them say, ‘Ah, Burton’s the man; he’s 
no crank, we’ll vote for him !’ ” 

“Maybe it will, then ; I hope so at least. I don’t 
want to get beaten, that’s sure; and you ought to 
know, Sanders, what’s best to be done.” 

“I do; and I see you are just a little blue this 
morning. How don’t lay this to whiskey, but to 
overwork. Come let’s stop here at Burke’s saloon 
and get toned up a little before we start on our long 
drive.” 

This said the two went into the saloon and 


The Burton Manor. 


37 


drank freely. Soon they were on their way joy- 
fully, to June Bay, to arrange for some public 
speeches and talk to whom they could personally. 
Mr. Burton cheered up, and, from his actions had 
forgotten all about his troubles at home. He was' 
jolly and talkative and made himself very prom- 
inent in every circle of men that could be formed 
that day on the street corners or elsewhere. 


38 


The Burton Manor. 


CHAPTER IV. 

At the Burton home everything was taking a 
decided change for the worse. Everything de- 
pended on some sign that the cheerfulness and sym- 
pathy of former days were returning; but that 
sign not coming, the clouds hung low and dark 
about the home. 

Ruby and Mrs. Burton were wrapped in silence 
for some time after Mr. Burton left them. Si- 
lence alone was suited to the hour. Yet, it had been 
well could some subject have been mentioned to 
change the tide of thought and grief which had set 
in upon them. But Ruby could not think of such 
a subject. In fact, she could do only what every 
other human would have done under the circum- 
stances, — become desperately serious. 

It was not so much about the past she was think- 
ing now, it was the future. She well knew her 
pale-faced mother could not stand many shocks like 
the one just suffered. So, the question came to 
her in all its gravity: “What would we do if 
mamma were to die? oh! what would I do? If 
papa goes on in his present course his wealth will 
surely be wasted, then we will be thrown upon the 
world. Faunia and Jamie, poor darlings, are not 
able take care of themselves. What in all this 
wide world would become of them ?” 


The Burton Manor. 


39 


To think of them being taken to an orphans’ 
home, then pnt among strangers, was more than she 
could bear. Yet she well knew such had been the 
case in untold instances. There was one in their 
own city of so late report that many were still talk- 
ing about it. It was the Dolfin family. Their 
mansion was now occupied by a wholesale liquor 
man. But a few years since Dolfin was one of 
the wealthiest men of the town. He took to drink, 
then to gambling, and at this time he was not as 
well provided for as a tramp. His wife was dead, 
his family gone he knew not where. It was one 
day while asking for alms that a lady inquired of 
him : “Have you no friends ?” 

He answered while tears filled his bleared eyes: 
“I don’t know, lady. I had a darling boy and a 
sweet-faced girl one time. The good Lord only 
knows whether they would be my friends or not. 
They would not know me were they to see me.” 

“So, it would be nothing strange if it should 
turn out the same way with us,” thought Ruby. 

This was more than she could endure. She must 
give vent to her grief, which for several hours had 
been gathering in her bosom like a storm. But 
it would not do thus to give way in her mother’s 
presence. So she quietly slipped to her own room. 
There she threw herself across the bed and cried: 
“Oh! this grief, this grief! Thou Infinite One, 
when wilt thou avenge the wrongs of earth? Wilt 
thou never hear the cries of babes and the moans 
of mothers and wives?” 

Marge was just outside working with flowers 
and heard through the open window these words 
of Ruby’s. She hastened to Ruphus and said: 


40 


The Burton Manor. 


“I’ll jis’ bet Misses is wo’se. I jis’ heahd young 
Misses cryin’ in her room. I’m goin’ in to see 
if Marge can’t do anything for them.” 

“And tell them, Marge, that Buphus will do 
anything in his power to help his Misses. I’ll tell 
you dey’s been mi’ty good to dis niggah.” 

“Yes, an’ dis one, too,” responded Marge. 

So she hastened into Buby’s room and going to 
the bed where the grief-stricken girl lay, she sym- 
pathetically stroked her hair and inquired: “Is 
de Misses wo’se, Buby?” 

“I fear so, Marge,” answered Buby. 

“Lo’d bless you, child, oil Marge feels sorry wif 
all her heart for you. Don’t no what dis niggah 
wud do if Misses was to die and de home was to 
be broken up.” 

“Never mind. Marge, we must go in and see 
how Mamma is getting along and do something 
possible to help her. And, Marge, you must be 
careful not to say anything that would make 
Mamma feel bad, — say nothing about our trou- 
bles.” 

“Suah, Miss Buby, an’ Marge will be cahful. 
She would not say anything foh all dis wo’ld t’ 
hurt Misses.” 

So Buby, with Marge following, went quietly 
back to the bedroom. As they entered Mrs. Bur- 
ton heavily opened her eyes, turned her face again, 
and sighed as if it were more than she could bear. 
It was plain to her quick senses why Buby was 
absent and she knew that her courage was self- 
induced. 

Buby slipped hastily up to her mother’s bed and 


The Burton Manor. 


4 * 

said: “Mamma, dear, is there anything we can 
do for you?” 

To this Mrs. Burton only replied: “My chil- 
dren ! oh, my children ! who will care for them ?” 

Ruby having given vent to her grief was now 
ready to comfort again, if possible, the one on 
whom so much depended so far as the Burton home 
was concerned. She gently stroked her mother’s 
hair, and said: “Come, mamma, you must not 
give way thus to grief. The campaign will be 
over in one more week. Then, I feel sure papa 
will be himself again. Dr. Blake told me the 
other day that papa would undoubtedly be elected. 
I feel he will surely straighten up and keep in 
shape for the work of his office.” 

Mrs. Burton made no reply. It was evident 
she was rapidly getting worse. Ruby saw some- 
thing must be done, so she left the room motion- 
ing for Marge to follow. As soon as the door 
was closed behind them she told Marge to find Ru- 
phus and tell him to hasten for Dr. Blake. She 
then returned to do what she could by kind words, 
and the use of camphor to sustain her mother 
till the doctor could arrive. For twenty minutes 
she sat and waited. 

“I do wonder why Ruphus, at least, does not 
return,” she said to herself. 

Five minutes more elapsed before she heard 
him coming into the living-room. She hurried to 
meet him and knew at once by the stare of his eyes 
that something had happened. 

“Why, Ruphus, what in the world kept you so 
long ? Did you not know mamma was very bad ?” 

“Yes-s’em, Miss Ruby, but you see de doctah was 


42 


The Burton Manor. 


not at home, so Fse tryin’ to find him. Lawse, 
Misses, der’s been de awfulest t’ing happened down- 
town yo’ ever heahd ov.” 

“What can it be, pray, tell me?” nervously in- 
quired Ruby. 

“Why, dey’s two men, prominent citizens, a col- 
ohd boy told me, got drinkin’ dis mo’nin’, den dey 
got to fussin’ an’ finally dey pulled out deir knives 
and jis’ cut an’ slashed each other.” 

“Oh, horrors !” exclaimed Ruby, clapping her 
hands to her ears as she turned to go back to her 
mother. 

“Yes, Miss Ruby,” continued Ruphus, “an’ yo’ 
sees de doctah was down dere b indin’ up dem men’s 
wounds an’ sent word out dat he could not come 
fer an hour.” 

This bit of news not only horrified Ruby but 
aroused grave suspicions in her mind. She was 
anxious to know more if possible so turned again 
to Ruphus. 

“And did you not find out their names, Ruphus ?” 

“No-em, Misses.” 

“Well, were they candidates?” 

“Can-ju-dates,” Ruphus repeated, as he scratched 
his head, evidently puzzled; “can-ju-dates, is dat 
men jis’ what eats people?” 

“Oh, no ! men running for some office. Did 
not some one say something about that ?” 

“Dunno, Miss Ruby, didn’t heah any one say- 
nothing about dat.” 

By this time Ruby’s mind was in a shape to be- 
lieve almost anything. How did she know? Al- 
ready things had gone as she never dreamed they 
could. She had room to expect the very worst. 


The Burton Manor. 


43 


Just then the newsboy threw the paper in at 
the door and as her mother had fallen into a deep 
sleep she sat down to read. She knew if the fight 
had occurred real early in the morning it would 
be in the paper. Sure enough, there it was: 

“HORRIBLE FIGHT, 

In Bill Jones’ Saloon; One Man Dead and An- 
other Fatally Wounded.” 

Then the article went on to tell in detail the 
whole matter. Two of the prominent citizens of 
the city, leading politicians, had met in the above- 
named place early that morning with no feeling 
between them save that they belonged to oppo- 
site parties. They were drinking and there was 
much boisterous talk among the men loaf- 
ing about the place, and yelping for the 
candidates on both sides. The two men 
seemed to be leaders on their sides and were doing 
all they could to get the largest number to join 
them. So they not only drank freely but treated 
freely any one who would hollow for their man. 
Soon the two men had a dispute, then they fell 
to cursing each other and finally they drew their 
knives and went at each other with intent to kill. 

It was a .most terrible fray indeed, but it was 
a great relief to Ruby’s mind to know her father 
was not involved in it. 

More and more it dawned upon Ruby, as a 
thoughtful, earnest girl, that this whole cursed 
thing was due to political corruption. The saloon 
seemed to be the rendezvous of both parties and 


44 


The Burton Manor. 


whiskey ruled the day. It was becoming a study 
to her what attitude people ought to take, and es- 
pecially professed Christian people, to the liquor 
traffic. Though her education was complete and 
she had had all the advantages that wealth and in- 
dulgent parents could give, yet this was one subject 
she had comparatively overlooked till within re- 
cent weeks. In fact, she had been taught to be- 
lieve temperance people were a set of cranks, es- 
pecially political temperance people. True, the 
mother had taught temperance, but like many an- 
other good mother it was of the “moral suasion” 
type. Never had it dawned on her mind till it 
came to their own home that there was a universal 
and crying evil in the land. But now she began 
to be a philosopher on the subject. 

The hour waiting for the doctor was spent in 
such earnest thought that it passed almost uncon- 
sciously by. Mrs. Burton had slept soundly all 
the while and Buby felt after all, as she said to 
Dr. Blake, playfully: “Dame Nature is the best 
of all physicians.” 

The hour was gone, however, and the door-bell 
rang lowly. Kuby met the doctor in her usual, 
cordial manner and led the way to the bedroom. 
Yet there was an earnest sadness about her this 
time that Dr. Blake had not before seen. He 
could not but note it and for some time after he 
found himself thinking about it. Never had any 
one’s face called so loudly for sympathy and help 
to him. And never before did he find himself so 
helpless to disregard the call. 

That afternoon he was almost uninterrupted, 
though for two weeks past he had been going 


The Burton Manor. 


45 


night and day. It was well it was so, for he was 
in no mood to treat sick people. Over and over 
the question came to him: “What’s the matter 
with me ? Why do I find myself thinking about the 
Burtons all the time?” And once he caught him- 
self asking this question: “Can it be I am so 
foolish as to fall in love?” Then he laughed at 
himself outright, but the mood would not leave 
him. 

Dr. Blake was one of those men who declared 
love affairs foolishness and that he would never 
permit himself to be entangled by them. And he, 
like many another person, would perhaps have 
kept his vow had he really known what the trou- 
ble was with him at this time. But he did not 
know, — no one ever knows. He felt rather sick, 
yet it was a strange sickness. He could not locate 
any pain, he really had none. lie was not suffer- 
ing at all, there was something about his indisposi- 
tion that he enjoyed. He got up and walked the 
floor, yet some one seemed to follow him, and make 
accusations that he did not like. Once, to his own 
surprise, he found himself standing right in the 
middle of his consultation room, arguing. 

“I’m not in love, that much is settled. If I 
were a green, gawking youth such a thing might 
be, but I am beyond that age.” Then he laughed 
at himself again and said : “What a fool I am !” 

This levity only lasted for a moment, however, 
then he became serious again. 

“I must confess,” he continued to himself, “she 
has a beautiful face, the sweetest I ever saw. She 
is refined, educated, noble, unassuming, gentle, 
of a firm, sweet spirit. If I had time to think 


The Burton Manor. 


46 

about such things she would make me a nice wife. 
But then •” 

Here he stopped and going up to the mirror he 
stood for several minutes rubbing his hand over 
his face and viewing his features as though to see 
if there had been any change in his appearance. 
He felt different; he wondered if he looked dif- 
ferent. 

“I wonder if she cares anything for me ?” 

This question came to him with a shock. He 
had not thought of that before. It suggested a 
difficulty that was embarrassing, indeed. 

“How irrational it is in me to think of loving 
a girl who perhaps never thinks of me,” he went 

on to himself, “but, then ” Here was a long 

pause in which he stood thinking, “hut then in 
conquest there is glory. Why not win her?” 

This seemed to ease his mind for he went about 
his work for the rest of the day whistling and hum- 
ming tunes that he supposed he’d forgotten. 

That evening late Ruby heard the door-bell give 
one wee tap. 

“I wonder who it can be calling at this inop- 
portune time,” she said to her mamma, as she 
started to answer the call. 

“Good evening, Miss Ruby.” 

“O-h, it’s you, is it. Doctor? Come in.” 

“Yes, I had a little time and thought I would 
drop in to see how the ‘mamma’ was getting along.” 

“You’re kind, indeed, Doctor Blake; mamma 
has been resting only just tolerably well.” 

“Some way, I’ve been thinking about you — e-e-h, 
about your mamma a good deal this afternoon, and 
I was afraid she might not rest well to-night with- 


The Burton Manor. 


47 


out some more help. So I came in.” 

“You’ll go in to see her just a moment, will you 
not?” 

“Not necessary, I think, if you will give her 
one of these tablets.” 

“Very well.” 

“I’ve been wondering, also, Miss Ruby, when 
you got your rest; you look tired.” 

“I hope I merit your interest. I rest when 
mamma rests and when she is awake I do not care 
to sleep.” 

“Merit my interest ?” Dr. Blake repeated. “You 
merit interest which I cannot give. . You are surely 
a most dutiful daughter. I hope you will both 
rest to-night.” 

“If you pass many more compliments, I shall 
not be able to sleep for a long time. I am easily 
puffed.” 

“I was never more serious in my life than at 
the present time. I am learning from you.” 

“Indeed? I shall repeat the lesson, then: doc- 
tors are too indifferent. I see you are apt. I will 
take great interest in you; I think you will do 
well under my care.” 

As Ruby said this her eyes sparkled like dia- 
monds and a glow of mirth and animation played 
over her face that made her seem more beautiful 
to Dr. Blake than ever before. He stood looking 
into her face so intently with his blood rising so 
rapidly that he feared she would discover what 
was in his soul. So turning to the door, he re- 
plied : 

“I hope so; good-night.” 

It was almost a week after this time that Ruby 


The Burton Manor. 


48 

followed the doctor to the front piazza. She was 
questioning about her mother when the conversa- 
tion fell somewhat on the family cares. Anxiously 
she looked him in the face, which was to say, “I 
want the truth,” and asked : “Do you think it 
possible for Mamma to get well ?” 

A direct answer could not be avoided, so he said : 
“In all sympathy, I do not believe she can.” 

“I thank you for your frankness, Doctor, yet 
I have felt sure of this for some days. The foun- 
tain of my tears has run dry, rather my burning 
grief has dried it up. I calmly, though with a 
broken heart, submit to Providence. I shall now 
address myself to the duties left my hands to per- 
form.” 

“May I inquire, Miss Ruby, what your plans 
are if your mother should die? Pardon me for 
being so inquisitive, but your last remark suggests 
the question.” 

“Certainly, your pardon is granted before you 
ask it. I mean to do about the only thing I can 
do ; settle down to care for Faunia and Jamie. As 
for myself, the world has quarters for me, but I 
could not leave these darling little ones to seek a 
comfortable place for myself.” 

“But do you not think it wrong to shut your- 
self up thus when the world without so much needs 
you ?” 

This Dr. Blake said because he did not know 
what else to say. 

“The world may need me,” replied Ruby; “but, 

I hate to say it, we feel the world, especially good 
people, are trying to forget us now.” 

Strange as it may seem, those who were most 


The Burton Manor. 


49 


profuse in their expressions of friendship and most 
lavish in their devotion to the Burtons when all 
was going smoothly, very suddenly withdrew their 
attentions when this trouble came. Oh, there were 
a number of persons who continued to come with 
expressions of sympathy and inquire if they could 
do anything to help, but it was done in such a 
mechanical, such a professional way, that it did 
not have the desired effect. There was little heart 
in it. It was more an act of pity than real sym- 
pathy. This is what caused Ruby to speak as 
6he did. 

“Miss Burton, I am really astonished ! What 
do you mean?” was Dr. Blake’s reply. 

“Dr. Blake, are you not aware of the way fa- 
ther has been doing of late ?” 

“O-h-h, yes; that is, I understand he has been 
drinking quite freely. But people look on it as 
one of the necessary evils consequent on a cam- 
paign. No disgrace will come to you.” 

“Is it possible you can look upon this matter 
so lightly? Yonder lies my poor Mamma dying 
of grief caused by the curse of drink. We have been 
proud of our family record till now. Do you think 
I could ever have the heart to enter society again 
with this memory?” 

“I confess you have a problem of moral con- 
duct to solve of which I know nothing. But let 
me say this one thing: you have my deepest sym- 
pathy, and, however others may look upon this, I 
shall deem you all worthy my highest esteem.” 

Just then Faunia and Jamie came running 
around the house light-hearted and happy as larks. 


50 


The Burton Manor. 


“Hello, Doctor Blake !” cried Jamie, as he saw 
the doctor standing on the veranda. 

“Hello, Doctah!” followed np Faunia with a 
laugh. 

“Hello,” responded Dr.- Blake, as he stooped 
down to shake hands with them. 

They quickly passed him and huddled close to 
Buby. When the doctor arose from making over 
them he was much moved by the great, shining 
tears that stood in Ruby’s eyes. He well knew 
she had pushed aside the veil of the present and 
was peering into the future when these two precious 
children must be without the care and training 
of a mother who loved them better than she loved 
life. She would, of course, fill the place as best 
she could, but how impossible ! 

When Dr. Blake saw this, he felt he could do 
nothing better than bid them “good-evening” and 
leave the lonely-hearted girl with the merry-hearted 
children that they might laugh away her grief. 
As he went down the walk he heard little Faunia 
saying: 

“Why do you ky, Ruby? Won’t you swing wif 
us in de hammock? You don’t play wif us no 
more.” 

Then Jamie had something to suggest. 

“I’ll tell you what let’s do; let’s go out in the 
buggy a-ridin’. Won’t you, Ruby? You haven’t 
gone with us for the longest time. 

Ruby caressed them and dried her tears for their 
sake and excused herself, saying: “I have too 
much to do. Mamma, you know, is sick. Run 
now and play and Ruby will go and see after her.” 


The Burton Manor. 


51 


CHAPTER V. 

The week had passed since Ruby said: “One 
more week and the election will be over, then papa 
will be himself again.” Election day had come. 
The excitement had run higher and higher even, 
to the campaign’s end. And nowhere did the fight 
wage warmer than between the candidates for Con- 
gress, — Mr. Dice on the one side, Mr. Burton on 
the other. Every trick and scheme conceivable 
1 6 the mind of man was worked to its utmost by 
both parties. While at first it seemed sure Bur- 
ton would be elected, yet such had been the ma- 
neuvering of the opposite party that for several 
days just previous to the election it was doubtful. 
Over and over when interests would lag, Mr. Bur- 
ton had written out a cheque for $1,000, to the 
party fund, then interest would revive. 

Slanders too ridiculous to tell had been started 
by both parties on the other’s candidates. What- 
ever of slanderous truth could be raked up was, 
of course, told with delight. And perhaps nothing 
during the whole campaign had done Mr. Burton 
more injury than the condition at home. Every 
possible precaution had been taken to keep it from 
the public, but the tongue of a curious-loving negro 
cannot be tied. Ruphus had given the whole thing 
away to the negroes about the town and so it spread 
rapidly. The opposite party had even bribed Ru- 


52 


The Burton Manor. 


phus to get all the details of the matter. He, not 
knowing he was bringing a crushing blow upon 
his Mistress and Ruby, had given it with bulging 
eyes and in frightful tones. Every negro about 
the town, and there were many of them, declared 
they would not vote for Masser Burton. That, of 
course, meant a good deal. 

Then, however unreasonable and inhuman it 
may seem, the “News,” the official organ of the 
opposite party, printed the entire matter in its 
number four days previous to the election. Many 
good people were horrified at it and the town fairly 
boiled over next day with excitement. Men gath- 
ered in crowds kept the matter fresh on the streets 
all day and women running from house to house 
kept it on foot through the town. An extra issue 
of the paper was made and they were sown broad- 
cast through the district. A vulnerable spot in the 
enemy’s mail had been found and the Democrats 
proposed to make the most of it. No one stopped 
to ask what innocent soul would be injured or 
whether the wound made by this wicked thing 
could ever be healed or not. 

Of course many of Burton’s friends were shocked 
and grieved. Yet nowhere was there the real pain 
of heart and sickness of soul over the shameful 
news which was found in the Burton home. Of all 
that had gone before, nothing was half so humili- 
ating as this. Their name had been dragged into 
the mud and this was the one thing dreaded. 

So, the birds did not sing on election day, the 
sun did not shine in the Burton home. With 
curtains drawn all day, Ruby sat patiently by her 
mother’s bed, weak and pale under the strain on 


The Burton Manor. 


53 


her young nerves. That day Dr. Blake did not 
drop in as nsnal. He was kept busy elsewhere but 
Ruby did not know it. So as she sat therp she 
questioned herself thus : “I wonder if Dr. Blake 
has at last gone with the crowd against us ? He 
has, perhaps, felt it necessary to hold his place 
among the better class of people.” 

But the Election. Both parties were lying in 
their trenches for the last battle. There was a 
lull as before a storm. All the movements of the 
morning were on a sly and secret order. The back- 
ways into the saloons were either marked or open, 
• — for the law forbid them selling on that day, — 
so they must do it on the sly. No officers were 
to be seen, there being an understanding between 
them and the saloon-keepers that they were to keep 
hid for the day. Everything, however, went rather 
quiet till about half-past ten a.m., when there was 
some unearthly noise heard at one of the corners 
of the “Public Square.” Soon quite a crowd had 
gathered to see what it all meant. It was nothing 
particularly unusual, it was a lot of men beastly 
drunk, yelling for Dice as they wallowed about the 
street. It was a most disgusting s.e6ne and many 
of the better class of citizens who had been life- 
long Democrats gravely shook their heads when 
they saw it and said: “Well, if that is the kind 
of men who are supporting Dice I will not be with 
them. I cannot vote for him.” On the other 
hand crowds of Republicans could be seen stand- 
ing to one side talking low among themselves and 
chuckling over the success of their scheme. 

The fact was the latter named party had gotten 
these men drunk and hired them to hallo for 


54 


The Burton Manor. 


Dice in order to disgust, if possible, some of his 
better class of supporters. It had worked like a 
charm, but it was shocking to see men so highly 
pleased over getting men in such a disgraceful con- 
dition, who themselves would not associate with 
them afterwards. 

From this time on the day was filled with ex- 
citing scenes. About each voting-place was gath- 
ered a crowd of men most of whom were so intoxi- 
cated that reason had left them. It was very hard, 
in some instances, for people to get along the side- 
walks and even in the middle of the streets they 
congregated to discuss the events of the day. Such 
was the condition of Bay Street when the people 
were caused to shudder at the sound of the ambu- 
lance gong. The driver seemed unusually anxious 
to get through and so slowly did the crowd separate 
that it looked as if the wagon would have to stop 
and pick up some of its own victims. It managed, 
however, to clear the way and hasten on to rescue 
the dying. 

Its destiny was a grog shop on Sherman Street, 
where two men had unlawfully bought some law- 
ful whiskey, as well as many others, and in the 
midst of their hilarity concluded to shoot a little 
for a change. They were not, in particular, ene- 
mies, but were simply drunk. So they fired at 
each other a number of times with very uncer- 
tain aim. 

As a result one man was thought to be dying, 
a lady, who was crossing the street nearby was 
badly injured, and a boy, curious to see everything, 
had a leg broken. These, of course, were consid- 
ered but trifles and the crowd which had gathered 


The Burton Manor. 55 

was soon rushing to other quarters, where more 
excitement could be found. 

The Candidates were in great demand all 
day. Dozens of “floaters” filled many a back-alley 
waiting for the biggest” bid for their votes. And 
strange to say intoxicating liquors of all kinds were 
counted “legal-tender” with which to pay. Not 
only that, but it was the pay demanded in most 
cases. The party funds were exhausted many 
times during the day, so the candidates, party lead- 
ers, etc., were called first here then there to pay 
“the price” for the offices. 

It was hard to tell which of the parties was do- 
ing the most of this kind of work. They were 
pretty evenly balanced so far as wealth was con- 
cerned, so the tide first rose for one then the other. 
At one' moment you would think everything would 
go for the Republicans, then you would feel cer- 
tain the Democrats would win the day. It was 
at least evident that no ejection had ever been 
so close a race as this one. The leaders on neither 
side were over-confident. Earnestly they worked, 
pretending to feel sure of victory, but nevertheless 
anxious about the outcome. It was a day which 
tried men’s nerves, and had it not been for the ex- 
citement to stimulate these men could not have 
endured half what they did. 

Burton for one did not close his eyes for sleep 
all the night previous, in fact, did not return to 
his home. Vigilance, he felt, with many, was the 
price of victory. So he stayed on duty all the night 
long. But such work and exposure was telling 
on him. His eyes were bleared and swollen and 
a hectic flush burned constantly on his cheek. Full 


The Burton Manor. 


56 

of life he seemed, but his strength was almost gone. 

Thus the day went on and then the counting 
time came. The crowds kept up their noise and 
all the country districts poured into the city to 
wait the returns. Bulletins were posted every twenty 
minutes at party headquarters. These were the 
centers of interest for the night. How mislead- 
ing these reports were. No two in succession were 
in favor of the same party. Among the candidates 
courage would rise then fall. One time it would 
be announced that Burton would be elected by a 
majority of two thousand, then again that he would 
be defeated by equally as many. So, anxiously they 
waited the end. 

This did not come till about sunrise the next 
morning. It was duly announced by the roar- 
ing of anvils and the shouting of hoarse voices. 
The news spread through the city and country like 
wild fire, for everything had gone contrary to the 
real expectation. The district, of course, had been 
going Democratic for years, but there was so much 
uncertainty about this election that, some way, 
people expected a change. The Republicans, at 
least most of them, were confident of victory; es- 
pecially was this true as to Burton. They felt he 
would run far in advance of his ticket, and would 
surely be elected. 

But, he was defeated. His spirits sank like mer- 
cury in cold weather, — the defeat was unbearable. 
About him gathered a number of his most hearty 
supporters to talk over their chagrin at defeat. All 
described it by saying it was more than they could 
understand. There had been fraud somewhere. 
However, it was too late to change matters now 


The Burton Manor. 


57 


and the only thing they could do, so all agreed, 
was, “to grin and bear it.” 

But Mr. Burton felt it more keenly than the rest. 
It was cutting him to the very core. Not only 
had he lost the office, but where was he to get back 
the money he had spent? There was no possible 
chance of redress. So as these men stood talk- 
ing to him trying to joke his blueness away, it be- 
came evident he was in a critical condition. Ex- 
hausted from loss of rest and crushed by defeat, 
his nerves refused to sustain him. But as a rem- 
edy an additional dram of whiskey was given, then 
he was soon in shape to take home . — In shape to 
talce home ? 

There had been anything else but excitement 
about the Burton Mansion during election day. No 
one had called to disturb the loneliness of the place. 
Ruby sat at her post of duty, only being away at 
short intervals for rest, when Marge would take 
her place. Mrs. Burton had been unusually nerv- 
ous all day and as night drew near her nervousness 
increased. Low as she was yet was she anxious 
about the results of the election. Not so much as 
to whether Mr. Burton would be elected or not, for 
the effect would very likely be the same in either 
case. If he were defeated it meant liquor to drown 
his troubles: if he were elected it meant liquor to 
make him hilarious. Of this both Ruby and her 
mother were aware. But they discussed the mat- 
ter very little during the day. It was best to 
have it so, for both hearts had all they could bear 
and more than they could endure to talk about. So 
in comparative silence they waited to see what 
would come to pass. 


The Burton Manor. 


58 

It was about half -past five in the evening be- 
fore any news came to them from town, and wel- 
come was the messenger who brought it. 

Ruby had gone to the veranda for a few moments 
to watch the reddened sky, as the day waned slowly 
out. 

There was before her a lovely yet a melancholy 
scene. The leaves were falling fast and forming 
heaps of red and gold about the grove. High in 
the sky floated numerous cirro-stratus clouds like 
folds of finest silk. What a mass of bright col- 
ors they were, shining in inverted arches till they 
dropped to the horizon on either side. “Ah ! what 
drapery this*,” said Ruby, “to close us from the 
brightness of the day.” — Yet in through the lift- 
ing, downy folds came the receding sun in floods 
of glory, throwing halo after halo over the weary 
swain and tired city folk as they wend their way 
from the day’s work homeward. It was the dy- 
ing of the day, it was also the farewell which sum- 
mer takes each autumn time, when she has lavished 
upon us her fruits and grains till we can hold no 
more. 

As Ruby stood looking intently into the west 
but lost in sad thoughts of other things, she was 
suddenly called to consciousness of another pres- 
ence by a “good-evening, Miss Ruby.” 

It was Dr. Blake who had come quietly up from 
the opposite side of the lawn from that where Ruby 
was looking. 

Ruby, half-scared, half-exhausted, sank into an 
old rustic chair as she invited Dr. Blake to another 
by her side. 

Dr. Blake had not failed to stop ere he accosted 


The Burton Manor. 


59 


this lonely girl and study her face. It was the 
very picture of despair: and the only picture of 
despair which had ever aroused his admiration and 
ambition to possess. He thought he could see a 
strong mind and a masterful will struggling with 
the powers of darkness which were trying to crush 
them out. His sympathy was enlisted more and 
more and he felt a burning desire to rescue this 
life from the gloom of despair and fill it with joy 
and sunshine. 

So as he took a seat beside Euby it was with 
peculiar tenderness that he inquired about the “lit- 
tle mamma.'’ 

Hark was the picture that Euby gave him. Her 
hopes were all gone and but few words had fallen 
from her lips when she covered her face with her 
hands and wept bitterly. 

For a few minutes Dr. Blake sat in silence with 
the most peculiar swelling of the heart he had ever 
experienced. But he felt he must say something 
that would encourage this girl, who already had a 
deeper hold on his heart than he supposed any 
woman would ever get. He moved close beside 
her and gently taking hold of Euby’s soft, trem- 
bling hand, he said : “Miss Euby, would you allow 
me to be a friend to you in this hour of bitter trial ? 
I am perhaps better acquainted with the situation 
than any one outside your own family. I confess to 
you that from the very night I first noticed this 
cloud over your home, knowing what the conse- 
quence would very likely be, my heart has gone 
out for you. And nothing has taken so much of 
my thought of late as this, ‘how to lift the shadow 
from your life/ ” 


6o 


The Burton Manor. 


Ruby soon controlled her grief and was able 
to talk brokenly. It was almost pettishly, surely, 
very touchingly, that she turned her tired face up 
to Dr. Blake as she said: "You’re indeed kind, 
Doctor Blake; you are the first who has dared to 
risk his reputation for the sake of our comfort. 
We’re branded as a drunkard’s family; people are 
simply leaving us alone. Will it not endanger 
your practise to show too strong a friendship for 
us ?” 

"Miss Ruby, pardon me for bluntness, but I 
must be understood. It is more than friendship. 
I love you, and am willing to stake all for your 
happiness.” 

"But, Doctor Blake, you must excuse me from 
talking of this matter under present circumstances. 
I appreciate your sympathy, but duty to my dear 
mother demands my whole thought at present. We 
must linger no longer here but go at once to see 
her.” 

"You do not object to me giving the subject some 
thought, do you?” 

"Certainly not, if it gives you pleasure.” 

These last words were said as the two walked 
slowly through the hall toward the bedroom where 
lay the broken-hearted mother. As they neared the 
door to the room Dr. Blake stopped and catching 
Ruby by the arm drew her back as much as to 
say, "this conversation must not end just yet.” As 
he did so he looked earnestly into Ruby’s up- 
lifted eyes and said: "Just a moment. You ex- 
cuse yourself from thinking about this matter un- 
der present circumstances. Is it not often true 
that trials balance the judgment and help us to see 


The Burton Manor. 6 1 

the best and wisest plan? Would it offend you, 
Miss Ruby, if I should urge my case just now, that 
at this very time, in the midst of this gloom, I may 
be the better able to prove the strength of my af- 
fection for you and my regard for those dear to 
you? Will you give it, at least, some thought?” 

Ruby Burton was not a girl to be moved by mere 
sentimentalism, but her heart was starving for sym- 
pathy and love. From all proper sources she had 
looked for it in vain and had even dared to de- 
sire it, in secret, from the one who had just now 
opened his heart to her. But this was hope with- 
out hope. Then, too, she had reason to believe 
this was far more than sentimentalism. So she 
daintily took hold of his hand and smiling through 
her tears she said: “Fll grant your request, but 
let us hasten to mamma. 


6 2 


The Burton Manor. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Ruby’s answer was sufficiently definite to sat- 
isfy Dr. Blake, so he followed to the bedroom dou- 
bly interested in the case in hands. There lay on 
the clean, white pillow the strongest temperance 
lecture and the most touching plea for Prohibition 
that this strong-hearted young man had ever seen. 
As they entered the room. Mrs. Burton only opened 
her eyes to smile, then closed them as if to shut 
in the grief that was destroying her life. 

She was not a woman to unload all the burden 
of her heart to others. She felt, as she often said 
to Ruby, that, “the world has its own sorrows to 
bear. I would, if it were possible, keep mine a 
profound secret. How wrong it is to make the 
world sadder than it is.” 

On entering the room, Ruby stepped to the bed- 
side and brushing the silvered locks from her moth- 
er’s forehead, printed a kiss there and said : “Mam- 
ma, Doctor Blake has come and wants to know 
how you have rested since he was. here last.” 

“Fairly well, thank you. It has been a quiet 
day and I have an excellent nurse. I feel I am 
getting along very well.” 

“I must say your care has had far more to do 
with it than anything else. A merry heart is much 
better for you than physicians or medicine. Being 
a little way from the town, I was afraid you might 


The Burton Manor. 63 

get lonesome, so called in this evening to see how 
you were getting along and let you know you were 
not forgotten in the excitement of the day.” 

“We’re glad you’ve come. Doctor,” replied Mrs. 
Burton. “I trust our home and hearts are open to 
all our old friends.” 

“I do not believe, Mrs. Burton, I could have 
started in a direction that would have given me 
so much relief as toward your home. The noise 
nearer the center of town is distressing. It has 
been a day of sore trial to my nerves and patience. 
But no sooner did I enter the farther side of your 
grove than it seemed a different world to me. I’m 
glad you have such a nice, quiet place to live.” 

The conversation was here broken up by the 
sound of feet coming through the hall. Soon a 
pair of heads and four shining eyes were seen peep- 
ing around the door jamb. It was Faunia and 
Jamie, who did not hesitate when they learned who 
was in the room. They understood, however, how 
necessary it was for them to keep quiet in mamma’s 
room. So, their “how-d’ye-dos” to Dr. Blake were 
unusually low. They had been so nearly orphans 
for the past few weeks, that it was a great treat 
to them for some one to make a fuss over them. 
Dr. Blake had a great many questions to ask and 
some funny things to say and best of all — some 
candy. 

So the time passed. And we feel safe in say- 
ing that Dr. Blake could not have left any medi- 
cine that would have done half the good in the 
Burton home which these few minutes of cheerful 
conversation did. 

He did not fail to notice the effect it had on 


6 4 The Burton Manoi*. 

Mrs. Burton. In fact, it was a sly way of get- 
ting expressions from her without asking so many 
wearisome questions, and it proved successful. He 
got several looks into her face while it was open 
and thereby more fully understood what lay below. 
Smile ? Yes, she smiled at the prattle of her chil- 
dren, but, ah ! so sadly. I wonder if the reader 
ever watched a bleeding-hearted wife or a broken- 
hearted husband leave the yet-open grave of the 
one most dear to them, and as they go away press 
close to their heart a curly-headed babe left to their 
care and see how they print the hot kiss on its 
brow as they smile at it through their tears. If 
so, you know how grief can smile. It chills the 
bones and sickens the heart till we feel this whole 
world had better be tears rather than smiles of 
grief. 

Dr. Blake excused himself after a short time and 
started back to the noisy town. Buby followed as 
usual to the door, that she might inquire how he 
thought her mother was. Dr. Blake had learned 
to understand her so well that he did not try to 
evade the full truth. When she asked, as at all 
previous calls, “And how is mamma now?” he 
answered earnestly: 

“Miss Ruby, much depends on the next twelve 
hours. In that time we will know what the re- 
sults of the election are, and, however it may go, 
your father will return to his home and the way he 
returns decides the case for or against us. I never 
before saw a heart so completely crushed as that 
of your dear mother’s. It has at this present mo- 
ment all it will possibly bear; another shock and 
she is beyond help.” 


The Burton Manor. 


65 

Ruby turned as pale as death and stood like 
marble. It was the audible enunciation of what 
her own judgment had told her all through the day, 
yet she was not ready to hear it. She controlled 
her feelings, however, and very touchingly said : 
“It is no more than I expected. And the one thing 
I have been praying for this day is courage to meet 
whatever may come. I shall hope for the best, but 
be ready for the worst/’ 

“Miss Ruby, I do not want to meddle or be too 
inquisitive, but I cannot understand how so sud- 
den a change has come over your lives and why the 
very atmosphere of your home has turned from 
one of cheerfulness to that of gloom. Would it 
be asking too much for you to tell me the secret?” 

Ruby stood for a few moments with her face 
turned to the floor as for shame. The question in 
her mind was, “Why does he want to know? does 
he fear he has been hasty in advocating our cause ?” 

But Dr. Blake, seeing the possible effect of his 
inquiry, quickly supplemented it by saying: “Un- 
derstand me, Ruby, I do not ask this that I may 
decide what better attitude to hold toward you, 
but that I may be the better able to crush the de- 
mon that dares to darken your lives. I am aware 
that somewhere, through some agency the enemy 
to human happiness has done effectual work against 
you and your home. Pardon me, I do not claim 
to be a theologian, but I look on this whole mat- 
ter as a direct work of the devil. So now what 
I desire is information that I may be armed.” 

Ruby lifted her head and firmly setting her face, 
she answered: “It would be impossible for me 
to find words to describe the enemy that has driven 


66 


The Burton Manor. 


sunshine from our home and gladness from our 
hearts, and — but you know what else it has done, 
what it is doing, and what it will probably accom- 
plish before many hours more. If you will take 
it, however, I can name this demon in two words. 
The trouble with you men is you will not believe.” 

“I confess with shame my slowness in the past 
to believe much or even listen to much said on 
moral questions. But from this time on you may put 
me down as a ready listener; simply speak and I 
will believe.” 

“Then, I name for you the enemy of our home 
and every other home in the land. Listen ! The 
‘Legalized Saloon/ ” 

“Do you mean to say that all this sorrow has 
been caused by the saloon?” 

“I mean to say the saloon has estranged my once 
dear father and, regardless of whatever honors it 
may give him in the way of office, led him to form 
such habits as will be a curse to us through life.” 

“I knew, of course, that your father drank some, 
but supposed something else was at the bottom 
of your troubles. Almost all men drink, at least, 
the majority do, and yet their homes are not thrown 
under such gloom as yours.” 

“Now I want you to listen; you promised you 
would. How do you know what gloom is thrown 
over even the best of homes from which come 
these men of whom you speak ? You would never 
have known, perhaps, our grief had mamma been 
strong enough to hold up under it. Being frail 
and her nerves giving way, we were obliged to 
call for your assistance; consequently you got a 
sight into our family woes that you do not get into 


The Burton Manor. 67 

many homes. Know this. Doctor Blake, there are 
thousands of homes in which there is this same 
kind of grief, but family pride manages to keep 
it from the public. Hence, you call homes happy 
that are not. 

“It does seem that mamma has taken this to 
heart more than she ought, but it is because she 
has been fearing the present results for years. Fa- 
ther has always held there was no harm in taking 
a social glass, and, I suppose, has taken it when 
the occasion offered. At least, mamma has been 
afraid he might fall into the habit, though she did 
not say much about it to us children. I am led 
to believe now she had stronger reasons to fear 
this than we knew or know yet. You see he has 
just been laying the foundation and when the cam- 
paign came on and so much was thrown on him 
he gave way. Then the public saloon, from what 
I can learn, has been the center of interest, so it 
seems, he has been drawn into those places and 
has associated with the men who have no scruples 
whatever, till he has become like them. I feel 
certain papa would never have done this way had 
it not been for the open saloon. You do not know 
how different he is. It is this and this alone that 
has broken mamma’s heart,” 

“Well, I am learning. I have always claimed to 
be a temperance man, but it begins to look as 
though I did not know much about the subject. 
I will give it more earnest study from this time 
on.” 

At this promise Ruby’s eyes beamed with joy 
and lifting her face toward Dr. Blake’s, she asked : 
“And you are my convert, are you?” 


68 


The Burton Manor. 


“Yes, more than a convert. I am your disciple.” 

“Then I shall teach you and bring many things 
to your remembrance, and I shall command you.” 

“Just so you are merciful, slow to speak, slow 
to wrath and — and — well, you will deal gently with 
the young man.” 

“ ‘Slow to speak/ Now, what a condition to 
put on a woman. How else could they be use- 
ful?” 

“By their caresses and smiles, good bread and 
good pies.” 

“Here’s a smile for the night, then.” 

“And a ” 

“No, no!” 

Ruby hastened away to her evening task of 
putting “the pets” to sleep, but it was more girl- 
ish than previously. She would not have owned 
it that her thoughts were other than about the cares 
of the home and the sorrows of the day, and what 
might come to-morrow, but they were. Unnatural, 
indeed, the heart that would not beat more quickly 
under such circumstances. She put Faunia and 
Jamie snugly to bed, then sat down in her own 
room, for just a moment to think. These words 
from an old song came to her mind, and she 
hummed them over : 

“How often sorrow brings us joy 
And gloom lets sunshine in; 

How often midst the winter hours 
Our sweetest springs begin ” 

We must, at least, take a peep into another part 
of the Burton home on the evening of election day. 


The Burton Manor. 69 

It is the large summer kitchen, where Ruphus and 
Marge have about had their own way all day. A 
number of colored folks had come in for the even- 
ing to see if any bit of news could be gathered to 
talk about next day. The exciting scenes of the 
day were rehearsed in true darkey style. And as 
they were told, the eyes of the boys and girls, lis- 
tening almost breathlessly, showed a large amount 
of white. Each one was trying to tell of the big- 
gest fight and the most narrow escape from death 
by the combatants. In this, one of the es- 
sential points in every tale was that the one who 
told it must be able to say, “I saw.” It would 
not do to say, “some one said,” that would not 
make it real enough. So, it goes without saying, 
that in the incidents related that night, there was 
a strange mixture of poetry and truth. 

There was one thing they all spoke of in an 
undertone: it was “Masser Burton.” They had 
him mixed up in many exciting scenes during the 
day, some of which were almost blood-curdling. One 
such scene occurred in the rear of Dan Hensler’s 
saloon. The buildings on either side of this saloon 
were about forty feet longer than it was. Thus 
they formed a hollow square which was inclosed 
on the alley end by a tight, high board fence. It 
was just such a place as is fit for law-breaking and 
escape from official eyes. At one time that day 
this place was almost filled by a crowd of 'float- 
ers,” waiting for “a bid.” How the bid came we 
will listen to “Uncle Ben,” an old colored man, 
as he tells it that night. 

“An* I tell ye, ye out t* heard de boys yelp 
when de back doah ov Hensleah’s saloon opened and 


70 


The Burton Manor. 


two kegs ov beah was rolled out follered by Mas- 
ser Burton. He waved his hat an’ said: f Jis’ 
help yo’selves, boys/ An’ I tell ye de boys was 
not long helpin’ demselves. Dey soon swallowed 
it down, an’ Masser Burton were waitin’ to see ’em 
go roun’ an’ vote fer him, when two ov ’em got 
into a fight. An’ ’fore yu could turn roun’, five 
or six more had piled in an’ it was gittin’ to be 
a hot time. They hed knocked the keg out fr’m 
under Massar Burton, an’ I’s suah dey’s goin’ t’ 
smash him. He scrambled an’ got out, den dey 
commenced a-shootin’, an’, o-o-o-my! how de hair 
stand straight on dis niggah’s head. I thought, 
‘Well, ef I ever git out ov dis place alive, yu’ll nevah 
catch me in sich a scrape ag’in.’ An’ so I scrum- 
bled roun’ an’ got out an’ run fer deah life.” 

Marge sat with solemn face while Uncle Ben 
told this, and then, in touching tones, murmured: 
“Lawse ! Lawse ! Masser downtown, actin’ thet way, 
an’ Misses at horn’ nearly dead !” 

So the night went on. Ruby sat by her mother’s 
bedside till a late hour, waiting her father’s re- 
turn, yet dreading it as she recalled Dr. Blake’s 
words. 

“What would I do if papa were to come home 
intoxicated during the night and the shock should 
suddenly kill Mamma?” she asked herself. Then 
she continued, as she clinched her hands and cast 
her eyes heavenward: “Oh! thou Infinite One! 
when will this sorrow and these heart-aches be 
avenged? Oh, thou God of all goodness, count 
the lives sacrificed, the hearts laid on the altar this 
night to the demon alcohol.” 

She heard a noise. What was it? It startled 


The Burton Manor. 


7i 

her! Then she listened more closely and found 
it was Faunia calling. 

“What can it mean?” she asked herself, as she 
went to see. “Why is Faunia awake at this time 
of night? Here it is almost three o’clock, just 
when she ought to sleep the soundest.” 

She went to her room and found Faunia sitting 
up in her bed dressed in her snow-white gown and 
cap with a curl sticking out on either side of her 
face. 

“What is it, Pet?” she inquired. 

“Oh, Ruby ! Ruby ! who was it singin’ ? Fse 
a-sleepin’ an 5 dey jus’ crowded roun’ me an’ sung, 
an’ sung.” 

‘‘Who was it, Faunia ? What do you mean ? You 
were just dreaming, dear, go to sleep again.” 

“Ho, Ruby, I’se not dreamin’. It was mostest 
folks, al’ dressed in white, jus’ singin’.” 

Ruby consoled her and Faunia soon fell to sleep 
again. But not more than thirty minutes after 
she called the second time. Ruby went to her room 
and found her as before, only more excited. 

“You’er dreaming, Pet, there’s no one here. 
And if there were, they would not hurt our ‘sweet- 
heart.’ ” 

“Oh, Ruby ! I’se not ’fraid. De room was jus’ 
full oy peoples, ye-s, it was, Ruby, an’ dey’s so 
nice.” 

“Who were they, dear? Did you not know any 
of them? Did they not say anything to you?” 

“Ye-s, one was mamma, — oh ! Ruby, is mamma 
well? She jus’ come an’ kiss, an’ kiss me.” 

This quite aroused Ruby’s apprehension, but she 
said, “It’s only a dream.” So she kissed and 


72 


The Burton Manor. 


soothed Faunia till all was forgotten in slumber 
and the vision was no more. Yet she could not 
forget it; even after she had returned to her lonely 
watch it persisted in coming to her mind. It was 
so strange and Faunia was so earnest about it. It 
was so real to her. 

“The dear,” she said, “is so near an angel her- 
self that maybe they do visit her. Such a thing 
could be.” 

This threw Ruby into a revery. She sat down 
with such feelings of misgiving that the slightest 
noise made her start. And to her utter mystifica- 
tion her mother said some strange things after she 
had returned from Faunia’s room. She had given 
a long sigh, then awoke. 

“What do you want, mamma?” asked Ruby, as 
she bent close over her. 

“Oh, I guess I must have been dreaming. I 
thought Faunia and J amie had come in crying and 
I was just petting them. The dears, I expect they 
miss Mamma.” 

“Yes, and we all miss you, mamma. You have 
not rested very well to-night, have you?” 

“No; I have felt so strange, Ruby. It seem as 
if someone calls me whenever I go to sleep.” 

“Well, it is almost morning now, go to sleep and 
I’ll stay real close to you.” 


The Burton Manor. 


73 


CHAPTER VII. 

“Another drink and Mr. Burton was in shape 
to take home.” 

The election day is past, the night has worn away 
and faithfully as a mother, Ruby has kept watch 
at the bedside. It was a solemn, lonely watch. 
Yet, ever and anon, her heart persisted in revert- 
ing to her last conversation with Dr. Blake. Then 
she would ask, “Is it right for me to be thinking 
of such things under these circumstances, or is it 
a temptation?” 

All at once it occurred to her this might be her 
last opportunity to talk confidently with her mother 
on this grave subject. This, however, was not a 
new thing for Ruby Burton to do. All her social 
relations were open to her mother. She felt it im- 
proper to have it otherwise. 

“Then,” she reasoned to herself, “it will divert 
mamma’s mind from the thoughts that are destroy- 
ing its rest.” 

So when it could be brought into the conversa- 
tion without being abrupt, the two, daughter and 
mother, talked freely on this subject that mothers 
seldom know anything about till the whole matter 
has been arranged. 

It was about an hour after Mrs. Burton had 
spoken of such strange impressions, that she woke 
again. She was weak and nervous ; suffering from 


74 


The Burton Manor. 


an awful suspense, waiting the worst. It was now 
near the break of day, so Euby thought it her 
chance to speak. With her usual tact she reopened 
their former conversation about Claude and Miss 
Nelson. 

“Do you remember, mamma, dear, my predic- 
tion about Claude and Laura Nelson being en- 
gaged?” 

“Why, ye-s, daughter, I recall some of it.” 

“Well, the more I think about it, from the way 
Laura writes, the more I feel I am right. Would 
it not be nice if Claude should get so splendid 
a wife and move back to our own city to live? I 
feel sure we would never get lonesome then.” 

“Yes, it would be nice, indeed, if Claude would 
settle down and with a steady aim make a use- 
ful man of himself.” 

“Well, I do not think he has any other thought 
and there is nothing to hinder. I believe he is 
striving hard.” 

But as Mrs. Burton made her last remark, she 
so tossed her head that Euby felt some unmen- 
tioned sorrow must be gnawing at her heart. The 
question came to her, ff What can it be ? Why does 
Claude’s name bring a sigh from Mamma’s heart? 
Is there something about his life, of which I am 
ignorant, that suggests the burden already upon 
her?” 

This, however, was no time to surmise evil, so 
the conversation first intended was brought up. 

“Mamma, I want to ask you a plain, simple ques- 
tion. Would you think it wise for me to con- 
sider proffers of love at this time in my life ?” 

tff My dear child, that depends very much on who 


The Burton Manor. 


75 


may make them. It would not be wise at this time 
in your life nor any other time, to accept the at- 
tention of any one who is not your equal mentally 
and morally. And I would place special emphasis 
on the latter. You remember, Ruby, what the Bi- 
ble says, ‘Be ye not unequally yoked together/ That 
is safe to follow. But I was not aware that you 
were having any company, my dear.” 

“Mamma, do not be surprised, but Dr. Blake 
has opened his heart to me. Do you consider him 
my equal, should I listen to his words?” 

“I am impressed that he has a noble mind and 
courageous heart. I would surely be pleased to 
know as I leave this world that you had such a 
companion. And, listen, dear, would he let you 
take these darling babes with you into your 
home ?” 

“There is one thing sure, Mamma, I would never 
leave them if I could prevent. I really think it 
would be a pleasure to him to have them with us. 
But why do you talk that way; you are going to 
get well, are you not ?” 

“I do not know. Ruby. Mysterious things have 
come to me during the night, they have been like 
glimpses into the future. I saw at one time Claude 
and you starting side by side to climb a great, 
high mountain. It was a beautiful way, fields 
of grain and blooming flowers were growing on 
either side. Friends standing at the base were 
bidding you good-speed, and shouting well-wishes 
as you climbed. I could see your faces all aglow 
with enthusiasm and the rose of youthful vigor 
blooming on your cheeks. Your eyes sparkled with 
delight, you were laughing, singing, climbing with 


The Burton Manor. 


76 

joy. But way up on the mountain’s side the way 
seemed harder, still I could see you struggling 
on, when all at once Claude grew tired and sat 
down. Then your ways parted. You climbed on 
until you had reached the top, but Claude came 
down shame-faced and in disgrace. I do not know 
what it means, Ruby; I suppose it is just a dream. 

"Then Faunia and Jamie have been before me 
almost all night. The dears, it seemed like, were 
into trouble all the time.” 

"Yes, mamma, I think it has all been because 
you are nervous. But I’m making you talk too 
much. I am very grateful for your advice; you 
must now rest some more. The election is over 
and papa will soon be home ; then I hope our home 
will be happy once more.” 

As Ruby said this she kissed the pale forehead 
of her mother, feeling that she could move safely 
in the line of her newly-found life. JSTo more was 
said; it was a time for waiting, so they waited. 

The morning was dawning and even before it 
was light the roar of the anvils had awakened the 
entire population of the city. People were hur- 
rying through the streets and volume after volume 
of loud voices could be heard going up from the 
central part of the town. To one who was close 
enough to hear the names mentioned, there need 
be no doubt as to who was elected. The Democrats 
had won a signal victory and they were frantic with 
joy. On the other hand, the Republicans could 
be seen hurrying off the streets to their homes, to 
escape the jeers of their opponents. 

Of course, the more hot-headed must be ex- 
cepted. They remained, going through the streets 


The Burton Manor. 


77 

declaring they would “whip the whole Democratic 
Party.” This challenge was not long unaccepted. 
Again it would be made, again accepted. So broil 
after broil occurred, too dishonorable to relate. 

The saloons were still the centers of commotion. 
Their bar forces had to be trebled: the beer and 
whiskey literally flowed in a stream: and men 
poured in and out of their doors like herds of cat- 
tle to the watering trough. Free beer was on tap at 
many places and great crowds of boys and youths 
were getting their first lesson. Decent women did not 
venture on the streets : drunken men were reeling 
in every direction and vulgarity had no check: it 
was not safe for them to go. In the back rooms 
of saloons and in alleys drunken men were lying by 
the dozen, while others stumbled over them or 
kicked and cursed them like brutes. 

There were some pathetic scenes occurring that 
morning, also. One especially deserves our notice. 
It was a woman hunting her husband, who had not 
been at home for two days and nights. She heard 
at home what a condition prevailed “downtown,” 
and could not be restrained from going to look for 
her companion. 

The first person she accosted was a policeman. 

“Please, sir,” she said, tf< have you seen Jim?” 

“Jim?” he answered, in a harsh tone, “how do 
I know who Jim is?” 

“Oh, sir, it is mv husband, the father of this 
child.” 

Here she pointed to a bright-faced, three-year- 
old by her side. Two black eyes also sparkled in- 
terrogations at the policeman, — they had been cry- 
ing for papa. 


The Burton Manor. 


78 

‘'Well, I don’t know yon ner the child, nither. 
What’s your name?” 

“Perry, sir ; have yon seen him ? Do you know 
him? We live on Twenty-seventh Street and he 
is a painter.” 

“No, madam; I don’t know him and hain’t seen 
him.” 

The woman pressed on into the crowd till she 
met another <f blue-coat,” when she approached him 
with about the same questions she had asked the 
other, yet with less boldness for the tone of the 
first one’s voice had frightened her. 

“Oh, please, sir,” she said after she had laid 
the matter before him, “will you not find Jim for 
me.” 

“The street’s no place for a woman to-day,” he 
roughly replied, “go home and maybe he’ll come 
home after a while. I s’pose he’s around drunk 
somewhere.” 

“But will you not go with me till I find him and 
take him home ?” 

“Naw! go on home or you ’n the young ’n ’ll 
git trampled down, and I can’t protect you.” 

Her heart was so full that she could not think 
of going home without Jim. She forgot all about 
the safety of herself and the child in her devotion 
to Jim. 

“Oh,” she said to a stranger of whom she had 
been asking information, “he is a good man, only 
he drinks.” 

“But he won’t go with you if you do find him ; 
he’ll be too drunk,” replied the stranger. 

“Yes, he will! Jim loves us, baby and me, if 
he does drink. He would not drink if he could 


The Burton Manor. 


79 


help it. Some one has tempted Jim, I know the;? 
have, that's the way he always begins. But Jim 
loves us. I must find him.” 

At last she became desperate. Her anxiety car- 
ried her beyond all bounds of propriety She had 
made up her mind to go through the saloons, the 
back rooms and alleys, to examine the piles of 
drunken men of which so many had told her. 

“It's a dangerous thing to do,'' she said, “but 
I must do it.'' 

She was just ready to enter a saloon, when, “Oh, 
lady,'' sounded close in her ear. It was the voice 
of a woman. 

“What can it mean, is some one else hunting?” 
flashed through her mind. 

She turned and there beside her stood a woman 
dressed in a plain blue gown, belted at the waist, 
and a scoop-shaped hat with a red front band on 
it: also a man with blue trousers, red jacket, and 
cap trimmed as the woman's hat. They were mem- 
bers of the Salvation Army, and were on the streets 
watching for a chance to do good. 

They were struck with awe as they saw this lone 
woman and little child on the streets in that crowd 
and just ready to go into a saloon. 

“What do you want, lady? You do not want 
to go in there, do you ?” the woman inquired. 

“I'm hunting Jim and they tell me he may be 
in some saloon drunk. Can’t you, oh! won't you 
help me find him ?” 

As they stopped the child, whom the mother 
had now taken to her arms, not seeing any one 
in particular or hearing any one in particular, said 
in a plaintive tone, loud enough to be heard above 


8o 


The Burton Manor. 


the hubbub of the crowd, "Mamma, fere’s papa? 
I want papa.” 

"It’s very dangerous for you to be on the streets 
this morning,” continued the woman in blue. "Cer- 
tainly, we’ll help you — do anything we can. You 
must not go in there alone.” 

The Salvation Army people knew all the dark 
places in the city and were known in them all. 
And no uniform of blue or any other color de- 
manded more respect from the crowds of drunken 
ruffians that frequented those places, than the Army 
suit. 

"Let us go, then, together, — oh ! you are so kind, 
— and find Jim. He’s a good man, he would not 
get drunk if they would leave him alone.” 

"Will you not let me take the child?” said the 
man in the cap. 

He took the child and they entered the saloon. 
The anxious wife went straight up to the bar and 
asked of a great, red-faced man dressed in white: 
"Ho you know Jim, Jim Perry, and whether he is 
in here or not?” 

The man took a cigar from the corner of his 
mouth and carelessly blowing the smoke away, said, 
in a loud trumpet voice, so as to be heard by all in 
the room: 

"Boys, boys, does any of you know Jim Perry; 
is he in the back room ?” 

The noise of Bacchanalian songs and vulgar jests 
died down and all stood waiting for an answer. 

"Ji-ji-mm Per-per-ry? hic-u, hic-u,” said a 
swollen-faced man, as he approached Mrs. Perry, 
"pe-er-s like I do, ho-n-ey. Oh ! an’ you won’t let 


The Burton Manor. 81 

me kiss you, gal, — you’re a sweet lass, hic-u, liic-u, 
— then, I wo-n’t t-ell where Jim, hic-u, is.” 

As the wretch said this he tried to put his arm 
around the woman’s neck and kiss her. She in- 
stinctively drew away and was ready to scream. 
At this there was hoarse laughter through the room, 
but the man in the cap stepped between them, and 
laying his hand on the drunken man’s shoulder, 
he said : 

“Now, look here, Andy, that’s no way to treat 
a lady. If you know where Jim Perry is, tell 
us.” 

“Oh! an’ she’s, hic-u, she’s a lady, is she? No, 
hic-u, I’m a gentleman, say hain’t I? You know, 
say, hic-u, hain’t I a gentleman?” 

“Yes, Andy, when you are not drunk. I wish 
you would leave whiskey alone.” 

“Yes, thet’s right, I’m drunk, ain’t I? hic-u, 
I’m drunk; I forgot.” 

“But do you know Jim Perry, and where he is?” 

“Jim Per-ry? hic-u, hic-u, — yes, I’m drunk, — 
she’s a lady, I ought to be whipped, — Jim Per-ry, 
I don’t know Jim Perry, hic-u.” At this he reeled 
against a line of men who were standing at the 
bar waiting their turn for beer. They cursed him 
as “a lazy, drunken dog,” and giving him a shove 
he went rolling in the sawdust on the floor. 

“Mr. Proprietor,” asked the man in the uniform, 
“will you let us go through the back room and see 
if we can find Perry ?” 

“Go on,” was the grouch answer. 

The three proceeded, but were not successful in 
this place. And it was not until after two hours 


82 The Burton Manor. 

of search and insult that they found the object of 
their hunt. 

He was filthy — almost beyond recognition, yet 
the little three-year-old child knew him, and put 
its chubby arms around his neck, and said : 

a Papa, don’t you know me? I’se so glad to see 
you.” 

Jim Perry was taken home and for several days 
was unable to leave the house. He related many 
times to his wife how he had fought against the 
temptation, but was at last overcome. He would 
sit and cry over it like a child, and promise by 
all that was good never to take another drink. 

A close watch was kept at the Burton home for 
the time "when the reports are in.” Ruby stood 
on the front veranda in the gray dawn of the day. 
Soon she saw a cab turn into their driveway from 
the street. Never before had she experienced such 
feelings. On it came toward the house and before 
she was aware of her real surroundings, there were 
three men helping her father in at the front door. 
Ruby had no time to collect her thoughts,' that she 
might know what the best thing was to do under 
the circumstances. So, she only sank into the rus- 
tic chair on the veranda. The door into the hall 
from Mrs. Burton’s room was open, therefore, as 
the four men entered the hall, the heavy fall of 
their feet and muttering voices were enough to 
apprise her of what was taking place. 

Just as the men had entered the hall Dr. Blake 
stepped on to the veranda and in a half whisper 
aroused Ruby from her semi-conscious state by 
asking : "How is your Mamma ?” For a moment 


The Burton Manor. 83 

he could not understand Ruby being away from 
her when danger was so imminent. 

Ruby threw up both hands, sprang to her feet 
and rushed through the hall closely followed by 
Dr. Blake — here the pen fails to describe the sight 
that met their eyes as they entered the bedroom. 
Mrs. Burton lay with her eyes fixed heavenward 
whither her spirit had gone, an expression on her 
face, which ought to melt the hardest heart. Ruby 
only fell on her knees at the bedside and poured 
out her grief in heart-rending sobs. 

“Oh, thou Infinite One,” she cried, “when will 
thy wrath and vengeance come upon this frightful 
curse ? When will the number of these broken hearts 
that come before thy throne, be sufficient to stir 
thee to pour out thy wrath upon this abominable 
sin?” 

Then, laying her feverish cheek on the pale 
brow of her mother, she sobbed, “Oh, thou angel 
mother, now thou art at rest. How long you’ve 
suffered from the sins of others. Kind and gen- 
tle as could be, yet others have seen fit to curse 
your life. Into thy cup of bitterness many have 
poured their dregs, and laughed to see the misery 
it wrought within thy soul. In your bed you’ve 
suffered many days and wept hot, scalding tears, 
while over the bar, men, who have builded the fires 
to make them hot, have laughed a drunken laugh. 
Oh, thou angel one, take a long, sweet rest. But 
how can we live without you ? This impenetrable 
gloom ! Who can drive it away ? To care for you 
has been a joy, but, oh, how shall I ever carry half 
so great a burden without you ?” 

All this time Dr. Blake could but stand mo- 


The Burton Manor. 


84 

tionless, not knowing what to do. It was a grief, 
the like of which he had never seen before, one 
no mortal could have known how to allay. But 
he knew something must be done. So, stepping to 
the bedside, he gently laid his hand on the weep- 
ing girl, and said : “Ruby, we must have courage. 
Your trial is great beyoud description, but under 
these circumstances, with even the powers of the 
air marshaling against us, striking blow on blow, 
we must stand firm as the cross on Calvary. My 
heart bleeds for you, — your grief is mine. If you 
will have courage now to give orders I will carry 
them out/ 5 

Ruby soon possessed herself, sat up and gave 
direction as to what ought to be done. “Please tell 
Marge and Ruphus to come in/’ she sobbed out 
to Dr. Blake. 

They presently entered the room as sad-looking 
a pair as mortal eyes ever beheld. Tears were 
running down their black faces. Theirs was such 
sorrow as a poor, dependent child of the earth can 
only know, when his last source of comfort or 
protection is taken away. Not a word was spoken, 
it was no time for words, moans and tears were 
fitter things. So for some time the little company 
sat in silence, — such silence as is found when death 
comes in. 

When the first outburst of sorrow was over, Ruby 
said to Marge, “Marge, will you please look after 
Faunia’s and Jamie’s toilet when they are through 
breakfast and bring them in. And Ruphus, will 
you please inform Mrs. Ivers that mamma is dead. 
Doctor, you will call Mr. Janes, the undertaker, 
will you not?” 


The Burton Manor. 85 

“Most gladly, and will yon not want some tele- 
grams sent to distant friends?” 

Ruby gave him several names and addresses but 
of a sudden she stopped. 

“Oh, how can I bear it?” Here she broke down 
utterly and was unable to speak for some time, then 
she continued : “One must go to Claude. It will 
break his heart. We have kept it a profound se- 
cret from him about the shadow which has come 
over our home the last few weeks. He does not 
know of mamma’s protracted illness. It will come 
with the force of judgment to him. But, oh, send 
him word at once, please, do. How can I wait till 
he comes ?” 

“Miss Ruby, you will excuse me, then, and I will 
look after these matters at once.” 

Just as Dr. Blake was turning to leave the room, 
a head was thrust in at the door, and a rough voice 
said, “Docther, Misther Blake, weel you pleas come 
thes’ way a moment? Misther Burton,” he con- 
tinued as Dr. Blake entered the hall, closing the 
door behind him that Ruby might not hear, for he 
suspected something wrong ; “Misther Burton needs 
your helpt. I dink, Docther, dat he’s nerves has 
bean overtried by he’s anxiety about de eleckshun. 
He has wourked hardt and lost much sleep and a 
reactshun has set en.” 

This was the explanation given of Mr. Burton’s 
condition by Mr. Flyn, a saloon-keeper and brewer, 
who was a part of the caucus held some weeks ago, 
and who made the closing speech related at that 
time. 

Dr. Blake was soon in the back bedroom, where 
lay Mr. Burton, in a state of beastly intoxication. 


86 


The Burton Manor. 


His nerves were overtaxed, but it was far from 
the truth to say this was caused by loss of sleep. 
The loss of sleep was itself an effect, the cause of 
which, was the fact that his better judgment had 
been destroyed by strong drink. Mr. Burton in 
his sober days would never have thought of abus- 
ing himself by the exposure he had endured the 
last few weeks. 

So Dr. Blake, after examining the case very 
closely, advised that he simply be left alone, that 
the deaconess Slumber might patch up his nerves 
while he was sobering off. And that this slumber 
might be protracted as long as possible, he was put 
in a comfortable position and the room closed. 

Well, it was not long till motherly hands were 
administering to the needs of the hour, and the 
usual preparations in cases of death were being 
made. 

But before this Marge nicely dressed and combed 
Faunia and Jamie and brought them in that Ruby 
might let them look at mamma. We shudder at 
the thought of the scene. Those who have tried 
it, alone know how hard a task it is for even a 
stranger-friend to take a weeping, helpless child 
to the cold form of her who has cared for it, and 
say: “Mother is dead.” But here is something 
a stranger can never know, to take two weeping, 
helpless children, knowing you must henceforth be 
their guardian, their guide, and say to them, and 
with them, “Mamma is dead.” It seems too much 
for any heart to bear. And yet, this is what Ruby 
Burton had to do. Faunia and Jamie, though 
young, could understand, at least, in part, what it 
meant. Yet their minds could not span the years 


The Burton Manor. 


87 


and understand what lay before them. This is 
what made this blow doubly hard for Ruby. The 
way looked rough and gloomy. 

“Oh, if father were different,” sobbed the broken- 
hearted girl, “then I could see the way through. 
But what shall I do under these circumstances? 
Oh! what shall I do?” 

With these moans she pressed the heads of Fau- 
nia and Jamie closer to her bosom and they all 
wept bitterly. 

Marge sat rubbing her hands with tears rum 
ning down her face, not only out of sympathy, but 
because of her own loss. Yet she uttered not a 
word till Ruby had spoken her grief, then she 
poured out her heart. 

“Bless you, Ruby, what will pooah oil Marge 
do? You will have a home an’ sich a sweet girl 
as you people will nevah need to suffah. But dis 
oil black niggah nobody will caah foah. Misses 
has been so, so good to me an’ give me a home so 
long. But now, bless yo’, chil’, Marge’ll have to 
hunt a place foah a home. I tell you that means 
lots foah a poah oil niggah woman.” 


88 


The Burton Manor. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

The scene now changes a bit. Neighbors are 
in to speak in deeds their deep-felt sympathy for 
those whose needs are hid where words can never 
reach them. How often we prate our love to those 
whose sorrow needs onr hands to lessen the weight 
that crushes them to earth. A human hand can 
speak a sympathy far deeper than even angels’ 
tongues can frame in words for mortals such as 
we. Here was a time when words would not suf- 
fice. Dr. Blake had gone to send the telegrams 
which Ruby had designated. The pastor had been 
informed and the time for the funeral set on Fri- 
day at 10 : .30 o’clock : — this being Wednesday. The 
undertaker had come and the preliminary prepara- 
tions were being made for the burial. 

Ruby had gone to her room with Faunia and 
Jamie to suffer the greatest sorrow of her life, and 
think out, if possible, the course she would take 
in the near future. It was here that Dr. Lear, 
the pastor of their church, found her. He came 
to speak words of consolation and inquire her pleas- 
ure as to the funeral. But, in his own words, “It 
was the hardest task” of his life. Her face had 
always been bright and cheery to him, but now it 
was the very picture of despair. He had heard 
somewhat of the turn things had taken at the Bur- 
ton home, but did not imagine it could be so bad. 


The Burton Manor. 89 

So as he came suddenly upon the real facts in the 
case, it was an embarrassing surprise. He was at 
a loss for appropriate words. However, Ruby’s 
free, unaffected, graceful manners relieved him. 

“Miss Burton,” he began, “it is indeed a great 
sorrow that has come to your home.” 

“It were impossible to calculate the loss we have 
sustained in mamma’s death.” 

“I want to extend my heart-felt sympathy to 
you all. I have called early that I might help 
you through all your grief, if help I can give : also 
that the arrangements for your mother’s funeral 
might be perfected. There are so many things 
which come to us as afterthoughts when we have 
finished our first plans, that I thought best to come 
early, so we would have time for these also.” 

“We appreciate your kindness, Dr. Lear, and feel 
perfectly satisfied to leave all the arrangements in 
your hands; providing it is not asking too much.” 

“You could not ask too much, if anything I can 
do will alleviate your sorrows in this dark hour. 
But I would like to know the songs your mother 
most loved to hear or the portion of scripture she 
most delighted in.” 

“The old hymns were her favorites. ‘Jesus, 
Lover of My Soul’ was ever new when she sang 
it. ‘Bock of Ages,’ she ever loved, but the one 
she sang most was: 

“*I heard the voice of Jesus say 
Come unto me and rest / 

“She read many portions of the scripture to us 
when we were small and often talked of it to us 


9 o 


The Burton Manor. 


to pass the time away at night. But the chapter 
she read oftenest and seemed to love most was the 
fourteenth of St. John’s Gospel.” 

“I am glad to get these points and am sorry 
I did not get to have a conversation with your 
mother in her illness. But I was misinformed. 
I heard she was not well, but it did not come to 
me that her condition was at all serious. I missed 
you both from our congregation, but, — well, to 
speak plain, 1 understood the trouble was of a 
nature that would not be pleasant to talk about 
and such as cared little for company.” 

“We have been under a great cloud and all the 
world, it seems, has been shut out from us. Long 
and gloomy the days have been to us. Oh, sir, you 
will never know what we have suffered. It was more 
than mamma could bear.” Here great, bitter tears 
rolled from Ruby’s eyes, as she looked longingly 
out at the window. 

“And do you mean to say, Miss Burton, that 
it was this trouble which brought on your mother’s 
illness ?” 

“I mean to say that mamma died of a broken 
heart.” 

Dr. Lear sat, perhaps for two minutes, as though 
paralyzed. Then with a countenance brimful 
of interest and tenderness, he looked at Ruby, and 
asked: “Would you care to give me in a word 
the cause of all this? What broke your mother’s 
heart ?” 

At first Ruby’s face flushed, then it grew pale, 
and in tones that would chill the blood she an- 
swered, “It was liquor!” 

“Ah, here we have it again,” murmured the 


The Burton Manor. 


9i 

pastor, “and so the cry is coming np from palace 
and hut. Ten thousands of voices cry for help.’’ 

“Yet there is no help forthcoming. Dr. Lear, 
can you tell me why? Why are these voices not 
heard ?” 

“It is a lack of legislation; but why we do not 
get the legislation is a mystery.” 

Dr. Lear stopped his sentence so short that Ruby 
thought he would say more. He did, but it was 
to change the subject. 

“Miss Burton,” he asked, “may I see your fa- 
ther? He no doubt is almost crushed under this 
sorrow.” 

“No, it comes near crushing my heart to tell 
you that papa is not at this hour sober enough to 
recognize you. We cannot as yet tell him that 
mamma is dead. It is enough, sir, that mamma 
is dead; she, however, is at rest; but this other 
is what drives sleep from our eyes and constantly 
pains our hearts.” 

Here Ruby burst into weeping, it was too much. 
Dr. Lear tried to speak words of consolation, then 
took his leave, promising to call again in the even- 
ing. The visit had been the strangest of his life. 
And as he went on his way home he asked him- 
self again and again, “How can I prepare a ser- 
mon for such an occasion as that?” 

The news of Mrs. Burton’s death soon spread 
through the city, and friends were seen wending 
their way to the place of sorrow to lend a-hand-of- 
help if there remained yet any room. It was the 
first day for a long time that any particular stir 
had been noticed around the Burton home. Peo- 
ple had looked at it with a somewhat curious glance 


92 


The Burton Manor. 


as we too often do at the place of trouble. But 
grief had accomplished its work, sorrow had born 
its fruits, so many who had erstwhile stood aloof, 
came to sympathize and help. 

It was full one o’clock before Mr. Burton was 
in a state of mind fit to receive the news of his 
wife’s death. At that time he had aroused from 
his slumbers and sat on the bedside, perhaps the 
bluest man in the County. Only those who have 
tried transgressing all the laws of the human sys- 
tem, as had Mr. Burton, can know his feelings 
of dejection and remorse at this hour. Here he 
was at the close of the election. Large sums of 
money had been squandered, much time wasted, 
and at last, he was defeated. — And the worst of 
it all yet hid from him. 

As he sat there with his face in his hands, Mr. 
Overton, an intimate friend of Mr. Burton, who 
was now appointed to break the news to him, en- 
tered the room. Mr. Burton lifted his head quickly 
and seeing who it was, with great effort, raised to 
his feet and tried to receive him. “W-h-y, — who, 
— w-hat-eh — how-do-you do, Mr. Overton? Come 
in and be seated,” he stammered, in great embar- 
rassment. 

“Oh, I’m well, thank you. How do you do?” 

“I’m just tolerably well, have been working 
hard, of course, the last few weeks and am very 
tired, — that’s about all, I guess.” 

These words were spoken with a great deal of 
hesitancy, as though something was in his mind 
of which he would like to speak but could not have 
the courage. 

“Well, Mr. Burton, I came in to bring you some 


The Burton Manor. 


93 


very sad news, and with it I bring the sympathy 
of yonr friends and all good people. Your wife 
is dead!” 

“Oh, my God !” exclaimed the wretched man. 

He was already the picture of death. He threw 
himself back across the bed and quivered from head 
to foot as a leaf in the wind. His bosom swelled 
and sank as though floods were pouring in and 
out. For perhaps half an hour he lay thus, while 
two or three men worked with him, then he began 
to mutter one thing after another. 

“Oh, Dorothy, you dead !” then he would throw 
his hands, rub his head and cry. “And I have 
killed you,” he would conclude each time. 

All this seemed to be done in only a half-con- 
scious way. He paid no attention to anything said 
to him, but would go right on with his delirious 
talk. This was kept up for an hour, then he be- 
gan to understand what persons would say to him. 
Yet he kept repeating the former questions and 
self-accusations, “Oh, Dorothy, you dead! and I 
have killed you.” 

But this seemed to be an unsatisfactory answer 
to his own mind, for he often followed the asser- 
tion by an answer like this: “No, I did not do 
it. It was that Ted Fiend/ ” 

This he would say in a kind of hissing tone 
as expressing the deepest contempt for the one he 
designated the “Red Fiend.” 

But, perhaps, the strangest part of Mr. Bur- 
ton’s whole conduct at this time was that, after 
he had fully come to himself and every one was 
expecting a full confession, he would not talk on 
the subject at all. He wept as though his heart 


94 


The Burton Manor. 


would break, but not a word fell from his lips, 
as when unconscious of what he was saying. He 
went often to the little room where Mrs. Burton 
lay and would tenderly caress the cold, soft face 
of the one whom he so kindly treated in former 
days, and whom he loved even yet, when himself. 
Naught, however, but groans and tears escaped him. 
All this was a most touching thing to witness. I 
believe one would be safe in saying as many tears 
were shed that day in the Burton home out of pure 
pity for this wretched man, as out of sympathy 
for the sorrow-stricken children. 

“Wretched man.” What can it mean ? One liv- 
ing against his own desires: one trampling under 
foot consciously his own best interests: one who 
would love to do and yet cannot, hate to do and 
yet does: one who finds that “other law” in his 
members master of the law which he would fol- 
low. 

So the day wears away. One, two, three o’clock 
has come. Another hour and Claude to arrive. At 
Ruby’s request, Dr. Blake is to meet him at the 
train and escort him home. How slowly the time 
passes as she anxiously waits for him. This is 
the longest they have ever been apart. The bur- 
den of one has always been that of the other. No 
two hearts could be more closely knit together. 
Through childhood, school days and college life, 
they have lived and labored hand-in-hand. Sev- 
eral times during Mrs. Burton’s illness Ruby talked 
with her mother about sending for Claude, but 
the mother thought it not best. So it was delayed 
from time to time, till at last the fatal hour came, 
and they had to wire him regardless of conse- 


The Burton Manor. 95 

quences. It was news sudden and sad enough to 
almost crush, yet it had to be sent. So now Ruby 
waits Claude’s arrival that they may put their 
hearts together and let them bleed in unison. It 
will be a source of relief to know their misery has 
a fellow. Their tears will not be half so bitter 
when they’ve been shed as one. And all the shame 
that may arise from their father’s fall will be 
much less itself than had they met it each alone. 

Ah, how the human heart craves sympathy, what- 
ever its state may be. We love others none too 
great, but that we wish them with us no matter 
how bitter our experience is. 

Faunia and Jamie have been wandering through 
the house all day, curious at what they see and yet 
their hearts are grieved. Mr. Burton has paid 
more attention to them than for weeks past. But 
it is not that kind of parental effusiveness which 
characterized his attentions in former days. He 
holds them to his breast, but not a word except 
to answer their questions. They cling to him 
but that brings no relief to his accusing mind. It 
rather brings remorse. It would be impossible to 
imagine a greater punishment arising from the 
sight of holy things than is here placed upon this 
degenerated, broken-hearted father. The little de- 
mons that have so often danced around the spark- 
ling cup and with their merriment have driven 
dejection from his mind, now in thought dance 
once more, but all their laughs are hisses and their 
words are poisoned darts to pierce his heart anew. 

Perhaps the saddest scene of that afternoon 
took place in the back bedroom, the place where 
Mr. Burton secreted himself most of the time. Fau- 


The Burton Manor. 


9 6 

nia and Jamie had gone to “see papa,” as they 
said, and satisfy their minds about mamma by 
asking questions. 

“Is mamma dead, papa ?” inquired Jamie. 

The answer to this was easily given, but the an- 
swer was followed by, “What does it mean to be 
dead, papa ?” 

Papa tried to answer satisfactorily all their 
questions and both inquirers stood with open eyes. 

Next Faunia lifted her earnest face close to 
her papa’s, and asked: “Well, papa, fawt made 
mamma died?” 

Mr. Burton hid his face in his hands and wept 
bitterly. 

“Fawt makes you ky, papa?” inquired Jamie. 
“Buby said mamma had gone to heaven ; won’t she 
come back some time?” 

The father made no answer to these last ques- 
tions, it was impossible. 

Just then the scene was broken up by Buby com- 
ing in to tell her father that the cab was driving 
in with Claude. She took the two “pets” by the 
hand and led the way, Mr. Burton following, to 
her room. There they waited for Claude. 

As he alighted from the cab many remarks were 
made by persons looking out from the windows 
and porches, about the noble-looking young man 
he was. 

He hastened to Buby’s room, knowing where 
to find her. She was at the door to meet him and 
without a word they fell into each other’s em- 
brace and wept like children. Mr. Burton took 
Claude by the hand and leaning on his shoulder 
poured out his grief in penitent tears. Faunia and 


The Burton Manor. 


97 


Jamie stood with tears running down their in- 
nocent faces as much from joy to see Claude as 
from grief over their mamma. Claude stooped 
and folded them both in his arms and through his 
tears printed kiss after kiss on their cheeks. They 
threw their arms about his neck and Jamie said: 
“Oh, Claude, mamma is dead, did you know it?” 

“Yes, brother,” he replied, “I came to see her.” 

Then turning to Ruby, he asked : “Sister, where 
is mamma ? Let’s go at once to see her.” 

The two went to the mother’s room to look at 
the pale face they so much loved. As they en- 
tered both sank on their knees beside the corpse 
and hid their faces. 

“Oh, Ruby,” sobbed Claude, “why did you not 
let me know mamma was sick? How much good 
it would have done me to see her just once more 
before she died.” 

Over and over he kissed her face, fondled her 
soft hands and cried: “How much I need you, 
mamma, how much I need you even yet.” 

Soon the two arose and went back to Ruby’s 
room, where the entire family sat and wept to- 
gether. 


/ 


The Burton Manor. 


98 


CHAPTER IX. 

That night when Fannia and Jamie had been 
put to bed and Mr. Burton had retired Ruby and 
Claude remained alone. Claude moved close to 
Ruby’s side where she sat at the table, and, tak- 
ing her by the hand, said: “Sister, dear, I per- 
ceive something has been going wrong. What is 
the matter with father?” 

“What do you notice wrong with papa, Claude ?” 

“Why, he looks twenty-five years older than 
when I went away a few weeks since. Then he 
acts so different. It may sound rather queer, sis- 
ter, but I do not speak harshly, he acts the part 
of a man before the bar of justice on the charge 
of crime. I cannot for the life of me understand.” 

“Is that all you see, Claude, different from what 
it was when you went away?” 

“Ho, no; everything is changed. I could not 
but notice the deep furrows in mamma’s face. She 
looks as though her life had gone out in sorrow. 
When I left her she was as cheerful as May, but 
now it looks as if the blood had been frozen next 
to her heart. Then, sister, dear, your troubles run 
deeper than the thought of mamma’s death; I 
see it in your face. Come, now, tell me what 
is wrong.” 

Ruby sat with quivering lips as tears stole down 
her face. 


The Burton Manor. 


99 


“Im so glad you’re here, Claude. Oh, how I’ve 
longed for you night and day.” At this Ruby 
again gave vent to her grief as she rested her head 
on Claude’s hand. He tried to console her, but it 
seemed impossible. 

“Oh, it’s so cruel, it’s so cruel,” she would cry. 
“I do not see how I’ve endured it all alone.” 

“But, sister, tell me what the trouble is, won’t 
you ? Come, now, have courage and tell me.” 

“Do not ask me, Claude, just let me weep while 
you’re here to pity.” 

“It breaks my heart to hear you weep, but if it 
will bring any relief to yours weep on till you 
have had your fill.” 

She wept so long that Claude almost despaired 
of getting any light that night on the strange 
condition he had found on his arrival home. But 
at last she dried her tears and begun to talk. 

“To begin with, Claude, mamma died of a broken 
heart.” 

Claude looked at her with such an inquiring, 
penetrating wonder that it almost frightened Ruby. 

“Why, sister, what can you mean ?” 

“Just this : papa drank freely of the social glass, 
you remember, before you went away. We gave 
it little thought, you and I, though I did not 
approve; but shortly after you were gone papa 
came home awfully drunk. Mamma had feared 
this for a long time, but locked it all up in her 
heart. Being frail, she had worried about it till 
her strength was almost gone. Then several times 
papa spoke so short to mamma it almost crushed 
her. So the matter went till the time of which I 


ioo The Burton Manor. 

“It was late at night; mamma was up waiting 
and suddenly the tramp of heavy feet was heard 
on the front veranda, and voices could be heard. 
She hastened to the door and in staggered papa with 
two men supporting him. It was more than she 
could stand; her strength gave way and she fell 
helpless to .the floor. From that time to this she 
has been confined to her bed, growing worse all 
the while. Oh, the weary hours we’ve spent in 
that room alone. Papa has been out electioneer- 
ing most of the time. He has paid little atten- 
tion to ns all, even Faunia and Jamie. He has 
been drunk often since then, and last night he did 
not come home at all. This worried mamma all 
night, so when he came intoxicated this morning, 
with two others not much better off, mamma’s nerve 
gave way and she was dead before we could reach 
her.” 

“But I do not understand why you did not send 
for me.” 

“Well, I spoke of it several times to mamma, but 
she was afraid it would interfere with your work. 
Then, we could not have the heart to tell you how 
papa had fallen. Oh, Claude, is it not an awful 
curse? Do you never see what liquor is doing?” 

“Yes, yes, we see it in the courtroom as no- 
where else. Just last week I had a case that gave 
me more real pain than any I had ever handled 
before. An old man applied through me for a 
divorce' from his gray-haired wife. He stood up 
in court with tears rolling down his face and told 
how it grieved him to do this, but said he could 
not stand her abuse when she was drunk. It was 
hard to believe such a thing, but many of the neigh- 


The Burton Manor. 


IOI 


bors testified to its being true. I shall never for- 
get that old man’s pleas. He was granted a divorce. 
And that is only one of scores of cases happening.” 

“Well, it does seem to me if I were a man like 
you, Claude, I’d spend my life fighting this great 
evil.” 

“It is a great evil and I see its work every day, 
but, after all, it will hurt no one if they will leave 
it alone.” 

“Why, Claude ! how can you talk that way ? Tell 
me, dear brother, when did our grief-murdered 
mother not leave it alone ? There are Faunia and 
Jamie, poor, innocent pets, have they not left it 
alone? Claude, you break my heart to talk that 
way.” 

“That brings it quite close to home, doesn’t it? 
I see it. But I’ve hardly had time to take life 
in earnest. I promise you now I’ll give it more 
thought.” 

“You can hardly know how much pleasure that 
promise gives me. The past few weeks have been 
days of consideration for me and in my investiga- 
tions I have reached points in my convictions which 
almost astonish me, but I feel certain they are 
right. Would you follow my suggestions in this 
matter ?” 

When Claude had consented, Ruby started to 
point out the persons responsible for the saloon. 
But Claude feared she was going too far. 

“Oh, Ruby! Ruby! what stinging accusations 
you make. What has put such venom in your 
heart ?” 

“Yonder in the bedroom it lies. If you could 
have suffered with us the past three weeks and 


102 


The Burton Manor. 


seen what we have seen, you would not wonder that 
the milk of my nature had been changed to Venom/ 
if you call it such. I am not the light-hearted, 
thoughtless girl you left a short time since. Years 
have been added to my age in a few brief days. 
Life has become something real to me. There are 
wrongs that must be righted.” 

At last Claude and Ruby, weary of tears and 
worn by the cares of the day, bade each other good- 
night and retired. 

It was the first night for weeks that Ruby had 
been permitted to sleep in her own room. And 
that meant a great deal for her. No place was so 
hallowed by sweet memories as this portion of the 
home set apart for her individual use. There she 
had spent many pleasant hours with lady friends 
who had come to visit her. There were her books, 
many of them dearer than friends; her fancy work 
which she delighted in; and all her relics and me- 
mentos of former joys and ills. There she found 
herself after several weeks of toil and care. Ah! 
what memories flock around her pillow. In a few, 
brief moments she lives her whole life over, es- 
pecially the immediate past. That pitiful wail 
that called her from her rest the last time she had 
sought it here ; it still rang in her ears. 

“And poor mamma is gone,” she sobbed to her- 
self, as she turned on her restless pillow and tried 
to induce sleep. “How gladly I’d spur my tired 
spirit from rest this night to wait on her could she 
be given back to us. Yet, why would I call her 
hence from gold-paved streets to her future, earthly 
path which would have been ? RTo, no ; thou worn- 
out soul, enjoy thy lot and I will live alone. I’ll 


The Burton Manor. 


103 

take your place as best I can and suffer what would 
have come to you.” 

But poor human nature cannot long stand the 
wear of sorrow. Worn out, Buby sank to sleep 
and was only aroused by the sound of footsteps in 
the hall next morning. 

A different scene took place in Claude’s room. 
To his joy he found it materially the same as when 
he left it for his new field of work. Ruby had 
spoken of it a number of times to her mother, and 
it was an agreement to keep it ready for him just 
as he left it. The table was to stay where it was, 
the bookcase was not to be moved, his gun and 
hunting-case were not to be molested, all was to 
be unchanged. And so it was. Claude went in, 
threw himself across the bed, suffered agony of soul 
that cannot find expression in tears. It was per- 
haps twenty minutes before he moved. Then he 
rose and paced his room as a lion does his cage, 
his heart crying for revenge for the death of his 
mother. Everything turned itself into a legal form 
to him. It was a case of evidence and who was 
the offender? 

“Father has broken mamma’s heart,” he said 
to himself, “yet he has been a dear father to me. 
What would my chances for life have been were 
it not for the advantages he has given me; but he 
has gone wrong. Oh, that I had joined my mother 
in persuading him to leave the cup alone. Who 
knows what weight my words would have had. 
What? — ho! — what — is this — around — my neck? 
stop ! — stop ! — How foolish I seem. What day- 
dreams. — I wonder if mother ever worried about 
me. Ah, the dear, sweet angel; that I could con- 


104 


The Burton Manor. 


fess to her now, it would be worth a world to me. 
If she were here I’d place my hand in moth- 
er’s ■” 

“Ha ! ha ! ha ! and you’d be a child, would you ? 
You’d tie to mother’s apron-string — eh ? Ho ! ho ! 
ho ! Burton, I thought you were weaned.” 

At this Claude turned slowly around and viewed 
every part of his room to see if he were actually 
alone. 

“Who are you?” he continued to himself. “Ho, 
I’m a man; a great, strong, stalwart man, but if 
my mother were here to-night, I’d place my hand 
in hers and say, ‘Lead me, mamma, I’ll follow you. 
I need your help, then I’ll help you save father 
from the curse of drink.’ But what shall we do 
without her.” 

Claude threw himself across the bed again and 
lay as in a stupor the rest of the night. 

Ruby came early to call him and as she entered 
the room, he arose almost as one frightened. 

“Oh, sister, this has been an awful night.” 

fr Why, what is it, Claude? I tried to have every- 
thing nice and cosy so you’d feel at home and rest 
just like you used to.” 

“It’s so nice here, just as mamma always kept 
my room, but I dreamed all night. Once I was 
traveling, I hardly know where; but I was cross- 
ing a mountain range on horseback. The paths 
were narrow and dangerous. The peaks, rocks and 
gorges together made a labyrinth the most myste- 
rious I ever saw. It was impossible for a stranger 
to get out without a guide. There was a company 
of us and as we entered the web of paths two guides, 
all dressed in white, came to lead our horses safely 


The Burton Manor. 


105 

through ; and they were women. They had the 
sweetest faces I ever saw, no angel could be more 
fair. I thought: ‘Well, if this labyrinth is as 
strange and strong as the web your beauty throws 
over me, Fm lost right now/ My heart was like 
wax when she spoke to me. 

“ ‘Lend me your rein and I will lead you through 
these dangerous paths/ 

“‘No/ I protested, ‘my fair one, not on foot; 
you must mount the steed and I will follow at 
your side/ 

“ ‘But you will miss the sights if thus engaged/ 

“ ‘It were a privilege worth all the sights of 
earth to hear you talk. If youTl but tell me what 
you see Twill make a deeper impress on my soul/ 

“So without further argument I dismounted 
and lifted her to the seat. 

“We were just then on a small high plain ready 
to descend. Two paths led from its top, and, sure 
I knew the way, I started one pace ahead. 

“ ‘This is the safer one/ she said, and turned the 
snow-white horse into the other way. 

“The rocks tilted, and tottered under my feet 
and I was almost gone when I had gained my hold 
again and started in pursuit. 

“The path descended sharply, in a circle, into 
dark, winding gulches, where one was quickly lost 
to view. I followed after my guide as she flung 
her sweet smiles back over her shoulders and bid 
me come. But, for some strange reason, Ruby, my 
feet moved like lead : and, stranger still, my guide 
could not wait. So, I was lost. The other guide 
had led her portion of our party safely through, 


106 The Burton Manor. 

but I was left alone. This is the way the night 
has gone.” 

“I’m sorry, brother, but your guide when she 
does come, I hope will not forsake you thus.” 

“I fear she’ll never come again, Ruby.” 

“You must not let the dreams of night take such 
deep hold on you. They are but dreams.” 

“Do you know, sister, this whole thing reminds 
me of a great wreck ?” 

“In what way?” 

“I’ve always been proud of our home. We had 
everything we could want. Then, best of all, there 
was such harmony. Mamma loved father, I be- 
lieved he loved her equally as well. How happy 
we were together, but now look at it. These ties 
have been sundered, our home is a wreck.” 

“Let’s not talk about it now, Claude.” 

Still another scene presents itself to us, as, at 
the midnight hour we enter the room of Mr. Bur- 
ton! Sleep? Not he that night. Will there be 
any sleep in perdition? Neither is there in a so- 
ber drunkard’s room on earth who has awakened 
to a sense of his crime. Liquor murders that sweet 
innocence which nurses sleep. He is the father 
of unrest and restlessness. So, Mr. Burton walks 
the floor of his room that night mad with grief. 
Even yet he seems to be delirious, for now and then 
he stops, clinches tight his hands and strikes at 
something before him while he mutters, “Down, 
demon, down !” It is evident that, floating before 
his mind there are imaginations as real as life, — 
imaginations which are a torture to his .soul. 

Thus he passes the night away and in this con- 
dition he is found next morning. 


The Burton Manor. 


107 


CHAPTER X. 


As before stated the funeral was set for Friday 
a.m. Thursday passed with very little activity 
about the Burton home save by those who went 
in and out on errands of mercy and love. — It is 
now Friday morning and the hour for the funeral. 

The news of Mrs. Burton’s death had spread 
through the city and country around, and with it 
had gone the report of what had caused it. For, 
this was no longer a secret. Religious people shud- 
dered as they heard it, but among the saloon loafers 
it was the occasion of much sport. The keeper of 
one such place was heard to say: “I’ll bet Bur- 
ton b’lieves all this stuff ’bout his drinkin’ a lit- 
tle rye killin’ his wife. These cussed cranks al- 
ways lay everything on to us saloon-keepers. If I 
get hold of Burton I’ll give ’im some backbone.” 

“Y-e-z, y-u-r ji-s-t th’ on-e t-u do thet — hie, — 
hie,” muttered a drunken voice across the counter, 
“here, — J-jim, oil b-o-y, gi’ me s-o-m’ back-bone. 
I — wa-nt t’ go hum’ an’ bra-ce Jane up.” 

At this a dozen hoarse voices laughed loudly 
round a card table in the back of the room. It 
was the drunken Bill Simms who was talking. Jim, 
as he was called — the saloon-keeper — turned away 
from the man with him and replied: “Bill, you 


io8 


The Burton Manor. 


drunken cuss, you, go home, you have no money. 
I’ll give you some backbone with my boot directly.” 

"Money ? money ? — hie — hie, I’ve lots o’ m-on-ey, 
I’m no devil of a miser, though; I want — whis — 
hie — whis-key, not — mon-ey.” 

"Let’s see your money, you pauper, you.” 

While this was being said Bill Simms was fum- 
bling in his pockets and just as the demand to show 
his money was made, he pulled a shining something 
from them and holding it above his head laughed 
derisively. 

"Ha, — ha, — money, mon-ey. Here’s something 
better’n mon-ey. Come on, boys — hie — this mis-e-rly 
devil be-hind the counter say-s I hain’t got no 
mon-ey. Here, Jew, feast you-r eye-s on this. 
Naw-h-h, — you won’t take it nuther, till you sh — 
hie — ow your whiskey.” 

"Let’s see what it is.” 

"It’s J ane’s — hie — weddin’-ring — hie. Dimond ? 
Well, I gue-ss it is — hie. Come, boys, it’s wuth 
dr-nks fer us all, an’ this beggar wants it bad. Pour 
it out, y-o-u — hie — bloat.” 

While Simms was saying this and the men were 
crowding around the bar, the saloon-keeper was 
examining more closely the set in the ring. At 
last satisfied that the stone was genuine, he tossed 
it into the money drawer and poured out the drinks 
for the crowd. 

"Hip, whoop-a-a,” shouted Simms, almost to the 
top of his voice, as he held his glass high up in his 
hand, "this — hie — hag — back-bone in — it. Come, 
Jane, it sparkles mor’n diamonds. Ha-a, — ha-a, 
what’s a ring wu’th?” 

But these things are almost too heartless to men- 


The Burton Manor. 


109 


tion in connection with the hour of which we speak. 
At the Burton home it looked as though the old 
friends had all rallied again. Ample time had been 
taken and efforts in proportion had been made to 
perfect the plans for the funeral that it might be 
an expression of kindly sympathy and regard. Dr. 
Lear was at the home early that he might help in 
every way possible to alleviate the sorrows of the 
family. He realized it was the darkest hour which 
had ever come to them and felt nothing must be 
done that would deepen the gloom. To this end 
he held their sorrow was too sacred to expose to 
the curiosity of public gaze. In fact, he had sev- 
eral times expressed his disgust with this very thing 
in funerals. His plan was to have the family 
gather round the casket in a room apart, take the 
last look, say the last good-by, and give vent to 
their uncontrolloble grief. “Funeral Birds” were 
not privileged to stand and gawk that they might 
judge who wept the hardest. 

But let us pause a while in this room apart. Yet, 
why should we linger? It is the hour we most 
dread and we cannot speak of it to make it plain. 
The chain which holds kindred hearts together 
round the bier where lies the chief connecting link, 
broken asunder, is indescribable. But we stay 
through sympathy, we comfort if we can. 

Dr. Lear enters leading the way for the family. 

“Oh, mamma, how can we live without you?” 
sobbed Ruby. 

Faunia and Jamie huddled close to her side, 
weeping bitterly. Yet, they could only half-way 
realize what it meant for them. 

“Oh, my dear mother, that your lips might speak 


1 10 


The Burton Manor. 


to me just once more/’ pleaded Claude. The strong- 
heartedness of which he had so often boasted had 
left him. He, like all others, in the presence of 
death, became a child again. 

Mr. Burton wept as a child but not a word fell 
from his lips. He stoops and caresses the cold, 
pale face of his wife and watches as if to see if 
any sign of forgiveness is written there for him. 
How gladly would he, too, have those lips speak 
again were it possible ; but not so. Weeks and weeks 
they have longed to speak to him, but no chance has 
been given. Heath has no heart; there is no re- 
lenting with him. He gives not back the privileges 
stolen away. How often would we grope even 
into his dark shadow and take back what he has 
torn from our hearts, but it is denied us. It is 
not best — God has not willed it so. 

But time steals on — at last the casket must be 
closed. The family is tenderly helped to their 
carriage and the long line of procession moves on- 
ward to the sanctuary. The way lies through the 
heart of town, and, although two days since, the 
wildest excitement prevailed here, now all is si- 
lent. Reverently the people stand and gaze at the 
mourners as they pass. Every heart that is yet 
flesh goes out in sympathy for them. Some even 
weep and pray the curse of intemperance may never 
enter their homes. 

There was, however, a class of onlookers who did 
not weep, neither did they sympathize. Out from 
behind dark screens at different places, biear-hued 
faces were seen peeping as they chuckled in con- 
tempt at the news of what had brought this sor- 
row to the Burton home. 


The Burton Manor. 


hi 


“There goes Burton to bury his bird/’ remarked 
one of them. “Til bet he will pick one with a 
stronger mind next time: and that won’t be long 
either; I know Burton.” 

“He no hev sich a vooman as mitself. My vooman 
no breakt her ardt yen I goes ’ome drunkt, but 
breakts her brumm-steck insteadt,” stammered a 
German voice just outside the screen. 

Another said to a crowd of loafers who had been 
lounging around his place all morning: “There 
goes another imaginary victim of the innocent so- 
cial glass. Talk about it bringing sorrow ! I don’t 
know what men would do if it was not for liquor 
to lighten their hearts.” 

“You’re right, Bob, I — don’t know — what — I 
— w’uld do — in — my — poverty — if — I — c’uld — not 
— git — some — whiskey. I — forgit — all ’bout — hev- 
ing nothing — to — eat — and — my — childern’s 
— clothes — when — I — drink.” 

These words came from a ragged, woolly-headed 
man standing with his hands caught behind him 
and an old clay pipe in his mouth. The fact was, 
his wife washed to maintain herself and four lit- 
tle waifs, also this lazy, drunken wretch that called 
himself her husband. Many a hard-earned dime 
of this poor woman had been spent to get heart- 
cheering whiskey for him. 

Farther down the street was still another scene. 
As the funeral procession was passing what was 
known as “Uncle Joe’s Place,” Uncle Joe called 
a crowd of his regular customers to the front to see 
it pass. Then with a fiendish laugh, he turned 
and halloed: “Here it is, boys; here’s one on 
me. Come up and drink to your health. I’ll leave 


1 1 2 


The Burton Manor. 


it to you all if this ain’t a slander on our busi- 
ness, this news about Burton’s wife.” 

“Good! good!” shouted a half-dozen voices, as 
they all made a rush for the foaming liquor poured 
into glasses on the counter. 

“You’re the man, Uncle Joe, you’re all right,” 
they bellowed. 

The result of this treat to one man we will see 
later on. For the present we must turn our at- 
tention to the funeral. 

An unusually large number of people had gath- 
ered at the church to pay their respects to Mrs. 
Burton. She was a woman all respected, though 
they had slighted her for a time, because of the 
change in Mr. Burton’s life. But it is fair to say 
that a goodly number came through curiosity. Dr. 
Lear was known to be a clever man in adapting 
himself to all occasions. So the people, many of 
them, were curious to know just what he would say 
under these peculiar circumstances. 

As the bier entered the church the choir sang 
most exquisitely the old familiar song that Mrs. 
Burton used to sing, and it goes without saying 
that every heart was touched. Then came the read- 
ing of scripture. This was followed by prayer. It 
was fervent and long — filled with such pathos and 
touching petitions as had never been heard in that 
place before. The petitioner’s heart seemed pe- 
culiarly prepared to address the throne of the In- 
finite. He prayed as though on the very top of 
Sinai with all the world shut out below. Tenderly 
the two helpelss children were held before the 
throne ; touchingly the young man and woman were 
prayed for in this great loss; delicately the hus- 


The Burton Manor. 


ii3 

band was carried before God in prayer and his 
sustaining grace was besought for these bereaved 
mourners. 

Now the time for the sermon has come and every 
eye is fixed on Dr. Lear, as he solemnly rises in the 
pulpit. The valley of death could not be more 
quiet than it was there in that great temple of 
worship. “What will he say?” was the interroga- 
tion in every face. No one cared to lose a word. 
But to the surprise of all if not to their disappoint- 
ment, Dr. Lear repeated the first verse of his les- 
son, “Let not your heart be troubled and,” then 
in about a ten-minutes’ talk gave words of consola- 
tion and sympathy to the weeping family and closed. 
It was the cause of much comment and many said : 

“Surely, he does not mean to let the matter drop 
here, does he ?” 

Thus far only the slightest mention has been 
made of the home of the Burtons previous to their 

location in the town of B . It was from the 

little, old city of Y , some thirty or forty 

miles distant, they had arrived. There, the Bur- 
tons and Van Reams, Mrs. Burton’s maiden name, 
had lived for three generations. And through this 
time their loved ones had been laid to rest in the 
beautiful, hillside cemetery facing the town across 
a green vale of about five hundred paces in width. 
Naturally, here the hearts of the Burtons would 
turn to bury their dead. So, from the church the 
corpse was taken direct to the depot, that they might 
make the eleven-forty train. Thither we will not 
follow them, but must in justice to those for whose 
benefit we write, speak of that which met our eyes 


1 14 The Burton Manor. 

as we wait to see the body of this noble woman 
borne away. 

First, let it be said that the town of B was 

a liquor town. Here were located some of the 
largest breweries in the country. Every out- 
going train, both freight and passenger, carried its 
load of this cursed stuff to blast other cities and 
towns for many miles around. 

Well, the train on which Mrs. Burton was placed 
had to take its share. Shops and factories close, 
churches stop their services, colleges set aside their 
work, even the affairs of state wait, that men may 
have time to care for the spoils of death, but this 
business must go on regardless of ever}dhing. So 
it was on this day. What the people saw was* this : 
there was on the depot platform a great pile of beer 
kegs to be shipped. After the casket had been 
lifted to the baggage-car, these were piled all around 
it, as if to mock and, if possible, to disturb her 
rest. Many standing around turned their faces 
in shame. This might not have been intentional 
on the part of liquor men, but that did not alter 
the facts in the case. Again when the train ar- 
rived at the town of Y , a number of beer kegs 

had to be moved before they could get the casket 
out. 

Ah, if it should happen that the spirits of the 
departed know what is going on in this mundane 
sphere, how this innocent one must have been 
pained at the insult paid to its cast-off form. 


The Burton Manor. 


115 


CHAPTER XI. 

. From the funeral Dr. Lear returned to his study 
tired, sick at heart and discouraged. The ques- 
tion which came to him first when he sat down at 
his desk, was, “What shall be my subject for Sun- 
day?” 

Like a lightning flash there came this answer, 
“The Saloon.” 

He arose from his chair and nervously walked 
about the room, anxious to follow yet afraid of 
the suggestion. One thing was certain, he saw the 
saloon in a new light. He had come through these 
days of anxiety and nervous strain very tired, but 
a different man, so far as his relation to this great 
subject was concerned. As he put it a few days 
afterward to a friend, he was “reconverted.” A 
conviction clung to him which said, “How is the 
time to strike.” So, he concluded to follow this 
guiding of the spirit. 

That night found him late on his knees before 
the throne of grace, imploring, “Oh, Lord, forgive 
my faint-heartedness ; forgive my man-pleasing 
spirit; forgive my selfishness. Eve tried to save 
my own life till Eve almost lost it. How, Lord, 
my life is thine. From this day on, let me cry out 
and spare not. Forbid that I should preach any 
longer in an unknown tongue. Let me not speak 


1 1 6 


The Burton Manor. 


of sin by the way of inference, but call it by its 
name. Oh, thou Holy One, if thou wilt but help 
me, I will cry out against the awful crime of the 
saloon. Forgive me for past negligence and help 
me now.” 

Dr. Lear’s theory heretofore had been “Leave the 
saloon alone, and it will leave you alone.” He had 
no patience with the reports of fanatics, as he called 
them. The world was rapidly growing better, that 
was evident from statistics, so he argued. Any- 
thing contrary to this was narrowness and pes- 
simism. But a revolution had taken place in his 
mind, let us wait and see how things appear to him 
now. 

The time was very short to prepare a sermon 
such as he now desired to preach on this evil of 
evils. But all day Saturday was spent getting such 
information as he could gather from local temper- 
ance-workers, and by coming into actual contact 
with the people it had cursed. He visited a num- 
ber of drunkards’ homes and talked with them and 
their families. There he saw scores of innocent 
lives blighted by it which had ‘*left it alone.” This 
exploded his former pet theory. Then, as for gen- 
eral information, he had many books from which 
he could get almost anything he desired. So, he 
worked with a will and when Sunday morning came, 
though weary from overwork, he felt able to con- 
scientiously present the subject to his people. 

But we would not have you infer the anticipa- 
tion of this effort to be an altogether pleasant thing. 
Many times while preparing this sermon, his heart 
sank within him. It was when some of his most 
substantial members came to mind, who wo'uld 


The Burton Manor. 


117 

likely get offended. But his inmost soul would re- 
ply, “Fll leave it all with Thee.” It was the spirit 
fighting the flesh and the flesh the spirit. How- 
ever, the experience of the past three days had been 
too humiliating and painful to let him turn aside 
from his intentions. 

The time from Wednesday morning to Sunday 
was not sufficient to satisfy the curiosity of the peo- 
ple. Still they expected something extraordinary 
to be done, something special to be said. The pub- 
lic conviction was, that so strange a thing as this 
could not, at least ought not, happen without some- 
one speaking in plain terms against the cause. 
Something was expected at the funeral, but noth- 
ing was said. So, if the pulpit were going to con- 
demn such an unquestionable wrong to society, the 
next best chance would be at the Sunday morning 
servie. And, naturally enough, the strongest ex- 
pectation turned to the Methodist Church, because 
Dr. Lear had been more intimately connected with 
the affair than any other minister of the gospel. 

How I am speaking of no new thing. Every 
minister has noticed at times an unlooked-for in- 
crease in his congregation. I say, “unlooked- 
for,” because he has not kept up with or in contact 
with the public pitch of mind. How unfortunate 
it is that these men do not take to heart the things 
which are happening among men through the week, 
and let these prepare them to speak just as they 
prepare the people to hear. I am convinced there 
would be no dry sermons, neither listless congrega- 
tions if this were true. These unusual gatherings 
are not prearranged things. No one has gone about 
the community to drum the people out to church. 


1 1 8 The Burton Manor. 

But some accident, some misfortune, some crime, 
some outrage, some fortune, something like an 
electric spark has touched the public mind, and 
they flock to the sanctuary to hear it find expres- 
sion in God’s appointed means for such. But all 
this has happened while the minister has been shut 
up, determined he will prepare a sermon on the 
text that comes next in the list he has been making 
for years. No reason for it — only it is next. 
Whereas, if he would but go where they live, he 
would find it written in the very faces of the peo- 
ple. 

Dr. Lear did that on this occasion, so his heart 
was in tune with the heart of the people. Sure 
enough his church was crowded that morning to 
its utmost capacity and every face had a question 
mark in it. The service began by singing. The 
hearts of the singers were still in tune and they 
veritably flooded the great auditorium with melody 
divine. The solo was a special feature. It was 
the well-known piece, 

“Rest, rest to the weary. 

Peace, peace to the soul, 

Though life may he dreary 
Earth is not its goal” etc. 

It brought tears to many eyes and then and there 
the rest of heaven’s peace seemed to overshadow the 
congregation. This church was noted for its choir 
and splendid singing, but it far excelled itself on 
this occasion. Dr. Lear prayed most tenderly, and 
as he poured out his soul to God for strength, grace 
and wisdom — it was plain his heart was full to 


The Burton Manor. 119 

overflowing with some special message. His face 
showed weariness from continuous hours of work 
and worry, yet there was peculiar strength in his 
apt holiness of mien as he rose to speak. He an- 
nounced his text. It was Amos 3 : 3, “Can two walk 
together except they be agreed?” Every eye was 
riveted on him as he began to speak. 

“It is an old saying worthy of acceptation that 
one is known by the company he keeps. The home 
surroundings, education and other circumstances 
may be so entirely different as to make unlike the 
manner and whole outward appearance of two com- 
panions, yet the very fact that they associate proves 
little difference, — they agree. The strong tendency 
in human nature to seek a companion is ruled by 
a still stronger one to find one of its own kind. 
You never find an infidel making as his boon com- 
panion a devout believer in God. Neither do you 
see a thug or cutthroat walking hand in hand with 
a bluecoat. Nor do you find the plain, common, 
solid sense, home-caring, devout lady making com- 
pany with the artificial, nonsensical, shallow, fop- 
pish society woman. And least of all, do you look 
for an innocent-minded, pure-hearted, clean-handed 
maiden to be found playing and associating with 
the filthy, degenerated, contaminating libertine. Ah, 
no : there is no agreement between these, and their 
company would be torture to each other. There 
would be such digression in thought and dis- 
similarity in the trend of their conversation as to 
bring about constant embarrassment and necessity 
of apology. But this could not be. The lamb 
could not sleep with the lion in peace, the eagle 
will not be crowded in her nest by the dove, neither 


120 


The Burton Manor. 


will the dove seek there to rear her young. Let 
the eagle take the barren rock of the mountain 
fastness, but the dove the shaded vale beneath; let 
the lion seek his hidden lair, but let the lamb rest 
safely within the shepherd’s fold.” 

These remarks were so general and strange, that 
the attention became intense — almost to painful- 
ness. Dr. Lear, for once, laid all gestures and su- 
perfluity aside and talked as pastor to his people. 
There was not that high air of ecclesiasticism about 
his manners which usually characterized him, but 
a commonness which broke down the wall of par- 
tition so long existing between pulpit and pew. It 
was clear that he meant to be understood, so with 
the foregoing general remarks, he turned suddenly 
to a specific subject. But the discussion of the 
subject was so rare to the pulpit, that a number 
of the leading men of the church, — men of busi- 
ness, shook their heads in disapproval. They felt 
plainness on this subject would meet much op- 
position if it did not cause indignation to rise in 
malicious, criminal form. But fear had given way 
to faith and selfish thoughts to Christian fear, so 
Dr. Lear proceeded to open up the saloon question 
in the following manner: 

“Our city for days has been wrapped in hilarity 
then following close on the heels of this it has 
been shadowed with gloom. We have laid aside 
the wedding garment to don the funeral robe. An d 
when we sit us down to consider and search the 
cause we are confronted with the oft-repeated 
phrase, Tt is the saloon/ No less than five vic- 
tims were necessary at the election feast, to satisfy 
the thirst for blood of the black-faced, red-mouthed 


The Burton Manor. 


1 2 I 


fiend, — our national pet — the saloon. That the 
public saloon is an evil, unmixed, few will dare 
to deny. Even its own promoters, many of them, 
will admit it prolific of wrong. Statistics show 
that at least seventy-five per cent, of all crime, pau- 
perism and misery are its offspring. There is 
enough known by every man and women in this 
city about this arch-fiend to make the heart grow 
sick. It will not be necessary for me to review 
what it is doing, but there is one incident of re- 
cent occurrence which I wish to relate. This, some- 
how, has been kept from the papers that the sa- 
loon might be saved the embarrassment of answer- 
ing to the charge of the crime. God has pitied 
us, as a people, from the day the secular press and 
the saloon were married. But the thing that 
grieved him most was the fact that the grooms- 
man and the bridesmaid were from the religious 
press, so their mouths were sealed. But to the in- 
cident referred to : 

“It was while the remains of one, whose name 
I will not mention, were being borne past a certain 
liquor shop that the keeper thereof gave a gratis 
drink to a crowd of loafers who were in at that 
time. He gave it in token of disgust at the re- 
port of what had killed the one being taken to rest. 
In this crowd was a pitiable sot, whose manhood 
long since had been sacrificed to strong drink. At 
this time his last penny had been spent and the 
extra drink was the fatal draught. It kindled 
anew the flames of hell in his bosom and he 
started homeward with murder in his heart. 

“From early morning his wife had bent over the 
washtub to earn some bread for her little ones and 


122 


The Burton Manor. 


him, though he did not even so much as cut the 
wood that boiled the water. When he arrived the 
tired wife was driven out with frightful threats 
and the boy of two and a half years, screaming 
with fear, was left to suffer alone. The man stood 
for a few moments, fairly gnashing his teeth, while 
his eyes, more fierce than an angry beast’s, shot as 
in aim at the boy. He hissed from between clinched 
jaws oaths too bitter for human ears to hear, then 
sprang at the child as though he would tear him 
limb from limb. The pitiful cries of the child 
were like daggers in the mother’s heart, but she 
was helpless. The demon in the man’s soul was 
thirsty for blood. He seized the boy, tossed the 
little body above him, then slammed it to the floor 
in fiendish delight. The voice was stilled and only 
heaven knows how high those childish cries have 
gone: he was dead. 

“Ah, you shudder at the thought and weep, but 
let me ask you here, who is responsible for the 
preservation of the infernal thing which actuates 
men to commit such crimes? Will you help me 
while in the fear of God I try to answer this?” 

We refrain, however, from giving in full the 
sermon on this occasion. It will be sufficient to 
say that the point in it was this: he showed how 
the saloon’s life was based on politics and that if 
the churchman and the saloon man walked in the 
same political way they must really be agreed in 
heart. 

Well, it is hardly necessary to say that such 

talk was a shock to the quaint old city of B . 

There were a few in the congregation whose hearts 
uttered a silent amen, but the supporters of the 


The Burton Manor. 


123 


church and the leaders of the town were stirred 
with resentment. Mr. G-rigsby, the chairman of 
the board of trustees, treasurer, and chief all-around 
member, unceremoniously left the service while 
Dr. Lear was preaching. One saloon-keeper had 
slipped in with the curious crowd and sat close by 
the door. But he, too, walked out as Mr. Grigsby 
was leaving, and as the two went down the street 
together, some dangerous threats were heard from 
their lips. Their conversation was more than a 
prophecy of what the outcome would be. The ser- 
mon aroused the entire town, so that before sun- 
down that evening it was on every lip. Groups 
of men could be seen standing here and there on 
street corners talking in undertones and making 
many wild gestures. The saloon men were wrothy, 
— it was soon whispered that they were bent on 
revenge. This soon came. It was a little past a 
week when the home of Dr. Lear was dynamited 
and he and wife awfully mangled in the wreck of 
the building. 

This stirred deeper than before the moral in- 
dignation of the city. Meetings were called and 
steps taken speedily to apprehend and punish the 
culprits. But who were they ? The universal feel- 
ing was that they were the saloon-keepers, but who 
could prove it ? 

That week the “Tribune,” the liquor organ of 
the city, came out with a long article laying the 
crime to the temperance people for the purpose 
of creating sentiment. Who knew but that this 
was true? One paragraph of the article read as 
follows : 

“Dr. Lear was seeking for popularity and not 


The Burton Manor. 


1*4 

able to get it in any other way, he turned his bile 
on the saloon. There is always a lot of people 
ready to rant over something which they do not 
know anything about. But it would not take 
with the people of this city. Why blame the sa- 
loon for this crime? The saloon does not need 
to defend itself, the hard sense and good judgment 
of the community will do that. It might be if 
these would-be reformers would look among the 
better class of church members they would find the 
persons who resented the slanders of the Reverend 
Sir. Or, more correctly still, if they will look 
among the low-bred temperance cranks they will 
likely find this is a set-up job. These people were 
disappointed because the Reverend Dr. Lear’s ser- 
mon did not cause the city to rise against the sa- 
loon, so concluded to give the saloon credit for 
something that would compel it to rise.” 

This defense, however, did not make a very deep 
impression on the people. They could not get hold 
of any definite evidence as to who had committed 
the crime, yet the conviction remained the same. 

We must turn more particularly to the Burton 
home, now, as this is the place of which we pur- 
posed to write. 


The Burton Manor. 


125 


CHAPTER XII. 

Ruby had sent a telegram to Laura Nelson but 
it reached her too late to arrive in the town of 

B before Mrs. Burton was buried. But on 

their return from the funeral a message of con- 
dolence was there and a promise that she would 
follow at once. On Saturday she came and with 
her the brightest ray of light which had shone in 
Ruby’s sky for many weary weeks. The two girls 
were confidantes in school and the fervency of 
their friendship had not been cooled by the months 
of separation since graduating. They were more 
than friends; they were of kindred spirits and 
sisters in aspirations and desires. The tears of 
mutual grief which were shed when first they 
met spoke more than words. And soon they were 
comfortably seated in Ruby’s room, where the 
whole story was pathetically told. 

“Oh, Laura,” said Ruby, “how I longed for you 
when mamma was sick. It just seemed I must 
have a sympathetic ear into which I might pour 
my grief, and I knew you’d sympathize with me.” 

Laura Nelson sat with her face turned to Ruby, 
but so puzzled at what she heard that she did not 
speak. Then Ruby continued: “But you have 
come when I most need you. Now that mamma 
is gone I could not endure my loneliness if you 


126 


The Burton Manor. 


were not here. I’m sure you will stay with me 
through these long winter months.” 

“Well,” said Laura, as she brushed off her sur- 
prise, “I have been very anxious to visit you, yet 
I had no thought of finding you in this kind of 
grief. And now I shall certainly be unwilling, 
my dear Ruby, to leave you till your life in some 
way shall have been sweetened again. I had al- 
ways thought of you as one of the happiest girls I 
ever knew.” 

“And so I was, Laura, till father entered poli- 
tics and took to drink. Then it seemed that we 
had only been made happy in the past that we 
might become the more miserable when things 
changed. The happiest hearts are the ones with 
which the demon in drink fathoms his deepest seas 
of woe.” 

“It is sad, indeed, Ruby, but grief must not un- 
fit you for duty. I see at once that much depends 
on your courage of heart and cheerfulness of face. 
You must cheer up and I will help you. It seems 
years-and-years since I saw you, and I’ve bushels 
of things to tell you.” 

“Well, Parrot,” — what the girls in Laura’s col- 
lege class called her, — “just go ahead now, we’ll 
turn you loose.” 

“First I want to see Faunia and Jamie whom 
you’ve told me so much about; and Ruphus and 
Marge, I’ve heard you speak of their comic re- 
marks ; and your papa ; and — and your big brother. 
Say, I’m real offended that he did not meet me at 
the train. I’ve got a scolding for him.” 

Ruby explained that he was out of the town for 
the day, then they started the rounds of the house. 


The Burton Manor. 


127 


When they were through and had returned to 
the parlor, Laura took Ruby playfully by the hand, 
and said: "Now I am acquainted with the rest 
of the family, I can give more attention to you.” 

They sat close together and soon the secrets of 
their hearts were opened and there at once sprang 
up a new intimacy between them. They had more 
in common now than ever before. 

That evening, after Claude arrived, the three 
talked gleefully over their college days and past 
joys came to them once more. 

Next day the two girls began to plan some pleas- 
ant little trips to the country for the following 
week. They must take these while Claude was 
at home. Of course, he would co-operate with 
them, he always had. They were, however, dis- 
appointed in this. 

On Monday Claude made it known that he 
must return to his work at once, saying: "Court 
is in session and it is important that I should be 
there.” 

This came to Laura a little more forcibly than 
to Ruby. She felt this short visit and abrupt de- 
parture were inexcusable even for the sake of busi- 
ness. Said she pettishly: "I don’t care, Ruby, 
there are other things as important, sometimes, as 
business.” 

Then after Claude was gone the girls sat talk- 
ing over their disappointment. 

"Ruby,” asked Laura, "does Claude seem as 
warm-hearted as once he was ?” 

"No, Laura, there is a change of some kind 
in Claude. I do not understand it. I wondered 
if you noticed it. Yet I thought, perhaps, it was 


128 The Burton Manor. 

the seriousness which conies with added weight of 
work.” 

"I had thought of that and hope it may be the 
cause. But he must not grow old so young. Fll 
make him young again when I get hold of him.” 

“The circumstances of mamma’s death have 
taken deep hold on Claude. It seemed to throw 
him into a sad revery from which he could not 
extricate himself.” 

Here the conversation on this subject stopped 
and soon they began anew to plan some trips for 
pastime for the near future. 

Mr. Burton was the only one to accompany 
Claude to the train when he took his leave. The 
train was several minutes late and the father and 
son stood apart from the crowd, engaged earnestly 
in a confidential talk. Nothing could be heard, 
however, of what was said till they went to sep- 
arate, when Mr. Burton looked very seriously into 
the face of his promising son, and said : 

“Claude, you must quit it.” 

Then, the son, with an expression akin to an- 
guish, replied: “I do not know if I can. You 
taught me, father.” 

Laura Nelson remained but a few weeks with 
Buby, then returned to her home in the city of 

C , but they were well-spent weeks. She 

brought light and cheerfulness to the Burton home 
and the young shoulders which must now bear the 
responsibility of the household cares were much 
strengthened by her stay. 

The season was most beautiful. The birds had 
taken their fight, but the crisp, light air, the crim- 
soned, morning and evening skies, the rustling 


The Burton Manor. 129 

leaves beneath one’s feet, all breathed music in 
the soul. 

Already Euby began to feel the duties of life 
were not so burdensome as she had anticipated. 
There was behind her a noble, manly soul to ap- 
prove and encourage and that was half the bat- 
tle. Evening after evening, Dr. Blake wended his 
way to the Burton home ere the twilight settled 
and would spend a pleasant hour on the veranda 
in laughter and play with Euby and the pets. 
Now and then Mr. Burton joined them there and 
enjoyed the evening with them. Faunia and Jamie 
were as fond of him as ever. They would romp 
on his lap and it would seem at times that he was 
the man he used to be. Euby gave him every at- 
tention possible. She did all in her power to 
lighten his heart and revive his ambition to be 
some one in the world. She was the same sweet, 
cheerful, obedient daughter she had always been. 
And more than that, of course, she had become the 
mistress of the home. Mr. Burton appreciated 
this. Euby had really become the joy of his heart, 
in so far as a heart of lead could have a joy. At 
least she was the greatest comfort in all the world 
to him. The world looked with accusing glances, 
but in her face all was forgiveness and tenderness. 
Yet in Mr. Burton’s heart, the slow fires of re- 
morse burned beneath. The associates he formed 
during the campaign still showed a friendly side. 
But, oh, such friendship. They knew he was in 
trouble, but only recommended to drown it in 
drink. This he tried to do. The taste had be- 
come a habit, he could not resist it. He loved 
Euby because she was so kind to him, yet, this 


130 


The Burton Manor. 


love was not sufficient to put out the fires strong 
drink had kindled within his soul. It was like a 
man being swept in the very midst of the current 
to a deep, dark abyss below, while he thrns de- 
lirious eyes and trembling hands to a tender plant 
of fragrant bloom growing on the bank. The tide 
is heartless, it sweeps him on. 

These things constantly ate at Ruby’s heart, yet 
with the love lavished upon her by the great, strong 
soul to which her whole being now turned, she 
laughed as merrily as a thoughtless child. 

There is no smile that has the charm, sweetness, 
pathos of the one carried along upon a sigh. There 
is no laughter half so rhythmic as that which steals 
its silver tones from the trickle of tears within. 

On the other hand Dr. Blake did not attempt 
to hide the fact that this sweet, charming girl pour- 
ing out her love to him enlarged his life and vision 
till it was a veritable inspiration to him. He ad- 
mired her. And as he sat watching her at times, 
while love beams played from her eyes and her 
whole being flushed and pulsed with vigor and 
life, in his heart he felt he must possess her at 
once. 

"Hot yet,” she would playfully say; "let it be 
when the springtime comes again and the birds 
return with their mates and the flowers begin to 
bloom. Claude and Laura will then be wed and 
we will stand beside them.” 

This was the plan agreed on by the two girls 
and approved by Dr. Blake and Claude : they were 
to have the wedding in the spring. So it is to 
this time that we now turn. 

It was the month of May. How beautiful the 


The Burton Manor. 13 1 

earth was. A fresh, new, green carpet had just 
been laid. Festoon after festoon of apple blos- 
soms hung by the roadside filling the air with fra- 
grance. The wild wood and groves were dotted 
here and there with mounds of white where the 
wild plums grew. The wild flowers peeped from 
every corner, the brook had begun to babble, the 
birds, too, and with their mates to build a sum- 
mer home. Everything had taken on new life. 
The world was joy, — all joy, and sorrow was dy- 
ing out. 

At least, so it seemed to these happy young peo- 
ple, as they planned their wedding day. Laura 
Nelson was to come to the Burton home and it 
was to be a double wedding. She had already ar- 
rived and the two girls were arranging and plan- 
ning with all the glee possible to two hearts which 
hold the same secret, — the same hope. The only 
thing to complete their pleasure was Claude’s pres- 
ence. He was to come several days before the 
“set time,” but wrote he could not leave till the 
time appointed. 

Mr. Burton, though grieved to lose Buby, his 
only stay in life, joined the young people in many 
of their playful turns, as they worked from day 
to day and laughed and joked as though a boy 
again. 

On the evening before Claude was to come, Ruby 
said to Laura, as they finished the evening meal 
and turned to the front veranda to watch the day 
die out: “In the morning Claude will come.” 

“Yes, and he shall come each hour in the night 
in sweet dreams to me. I will think of him every 
moment till he arrives.” 


132 The Burton Manor. 

The evening was passing pleasantly, almost 
hilariously; for the “babes” were as frolicsome as 
two kittens and that, of course, meant noise. Twi* 
light had fallen, one of the most beautiful ever 
beheld. Cool and soft the zephyrs blew out of the 
crimsoned west, while the dying noise of the busy 
city came floating over the trees in a real lullaby 
to weary souls. At last the “pets” had grown 
tired and fallen to sleep. The moon came out 
and threw his silvery, soothing, and wooing beams 
across the earth. What a time for musing, or for 
two love-sick hearts to sit in tete-a-tete reveling. 
Then the whippoorwill in some farther corner of 
the grove raised his piping song to waft the 
thoughts to by-gone days or absent ones. The two 
soon-to-be -brides sat and talked. It was their 
souls’ delight, for their hearts beat in unison. 

“To-morrow.” How many times they repeated 
that as they talked, it would be hard to say. “To- 
morrow,” what a charm in that. How blessed it 
would be if we could all constantly live in to-mor- 
row. 

But there was a hurried footfall coming up the 
stone walk. 

“Who can it be at this hour?” the girls both 
asked in an undertone. 

They rose from their chairs and peering out 
through the shade of the trees, dimly outlined 
across the pathway by the moon, they could at 
last distinguish a messenger-boy in his blue and 
brass. 

“Oh, Laura,” exclaimed Kuby, “I’ll venture it 
is a message from Claude. Maybe he’s coming to- 
night.” 


The Burton Manor. 133 

"Could it be possible ?” was the anxious reply. 

By this time, however, the messenger was bound- 
ing up the steps while Ruby advanced to receive the 
telegram with almost impatient hand. Then turn- 
ing both girls retreated to the parlor light to read. 

It was sent to Ruby, so, tearing open the envelope 
she read. Then a pallor as deep as death came 
over her face. Still she held it before her as 
though, if possible, to make it read differently. 
But it would not change. Laura Nelson was stand- 
ing immediately before her and seeing Ruby’s 
countenance, was so struck with fear she could 
not even ask a question. But as Ruby sank to 
the floor, Laura grabbed the message and hold- 
ing it up to the light soon understood without 
a query. It read: 

"Mr. Claude Burton found dead in his room, 
— come, or tell us what to do. 

"Signed, ” 

Laura, also, sank upon the floor beside Ruby 
and there, leaning upon each other, they poured 
out their grief. It was some minutes before they 
ventured to speak or stir. The shock was so sud- 
den and great that it was almost unbearable. 

"Oh, what can it all mean?” finally moaned 
Laura in her tears. "I wish we knew how this 
all came about. That would be some relief. But 
here we are miles and miles away with this dark 
night of soul upon us. How can we bear it?” 

"I wonder why Claude did not tell us if he was 
sick,” wailed Ruby. "We would have gladly gone 
to nurse him through. But who knows? ah, who 


134 


The Burton Manor. 


knows? We must tell papa and arrange at once 
to go to Claude” 

And now, dear reader, it is not our purpose to 
lead you through all this sorrow. It will be suf- 
ficient to tell these facts. Claude Burton’s words 
to his father on last leaving him told his condi- 
tion: “I do not know if I can.” Liquor had de- 
stroyed his will. On this the verge of his wed- 
ding festivities he had drunk too deep and thus 
he was found in his room dead of alcoholic poison. 

He was borne to the old family cemetery in the 

city of Y , and tenderly laid beside his mother, 

who so lately grieved her heart in fear for him. 
“And tenderly laid.” Yes, the gentle hands of 
a twice broken-hearted sister, the loving hands of 
a broken-hearted betrothed and the hands of a 
penitent father laid him away. No one of them 
was ready to accuse or complain. He was a vic- 
tim, not a criminal. It was fitting they should 
lay him just as close beside his mother as possible. 
It would be no insult to her even if she knew. 
He was her boy and she would fold him in her 
arms even though slain by the monster whose very 
name was an insult to her. 

Laura Nelson remained in the Burton home for 
a few days then took a painful farewell of Ruby 
and the family. And it will be well to say just 
here, that, though these two girls of kindred spir- 
its kept trace of each other for a number of years, 
no visits were exchanged. They lived and loved 
but in the great whirl of life and the duties that 
multiply with coming years, they finally lost sight 
of each other and drifted apart, leaving further 


The Burton Manor. 135 

words of sympathy, comfort and congratulations to 
the meeting beyond the tide. 

The storm clouds of this mortifying grief had 
scarce rifted when another, dark and ominous, but 
not so humiliating gathered around this bereft and 
fearing family circle. The links in the chain were 
being broken one by one; who could tell when the 
last would give way? The disintegrating force 
of sin, the rust of grief, fear, suspense were all 
at work, the end must come. The ship of home 
was stranded and the waves were beating fore and 
aft. It was only a question of a little time when 
she must yield her parts and the merest written 
records alone stand to testify that she had ever 
been. 

It was yet in early June. Faunia came in from 
her play and lifting her winning blue eyes to Ruby, 
said: “Sick, Ruby, tisseFs sick.” At this she 
laid her head on Ruby’s lap and sighed as a child 
only knows how to sigh. Ruby patted her rosy 
cheek and asked her about her play, thinking it 
was only a childish whim. But the answer was, 
“Sick, Ruby, tisser’s sick.” 

Ruby then lifted her to her arms and noticed 
the unmistakable pallor around her mouth that 
faintness brings. She rocked her for a few min- 
utes, but soon the evidences were too plain, Fau- 
nia was sick. Ruphus was sent for Dr. Blake as 
Ruby carried the plump, rosy “pet” to the couch 
and sat there smoothing back the tangled curls that 
fell over her face. 

“Is sister sick?” Ruby kept inquiring. And 
each time the little head would toss as she an- 
swered : 


The Burton Manor. 


136 

“So sick, Fs so sick.” 

Mr. Burton hastened to the room when told Fau- 
nia was sick and sitting down beside her he placed 
a trembling hand on her head. He bent low and 
listened to her breathing. It was quick and short 
— indicating some fever. “Is papa’s pet sick?” 
he inquired. 

Tossing her chubby hand into his she said : “I’s 
so sick.” 

Yet, neither Ruby nor Mr. Burton could feel 
anything serious was the matter. It had come 
so sudden they felt sure it would be over in a few 
hours at most. It was perhaps something she had 
eaten for dinner which lay heavy on her stomach — 
causing nausea and faintness. But when Dr. 
Blake had arrived and made a diagnosis of the 
case it was found more serious than they had ex- 
pected. 

“I cannot say positive,” was his answer to their 
inquiries, ff but it looks very much like the fever. 
We will know more about it by to-morrow.” 

This almost frightened Mr. Burton out of his 
wits. This little, sunny-faced, golden-haired child 
had a firm hold on his affections. He was kind 
to her when no one else would scarce dare to ap- 
proach him. She could climb on his lap, pat his 
cheeks, and caress him when liquor had made him 
almost unapproachable by any other member of 
the household. “The fever.” That was a phrase 
which always brought a shudder with it. It was 
the most dreaded disease known to that part of 
the country, for it was fatal in a large number 
of cases. It was a low fever which dragged along 
for weeks, sometimes for months, till the sufferer 


The Burton Manor. 


137 


was a mere living skeleton. No wonder, then, 
that Mr. Burton trembled as he looked at the rosy 
cheeks, the dimpled hands, the plump, round form 
so dear to him, when the doctor said, “the fever.” 

It was with much anxiety that they waited for 
the second day to come. Through the night she 
would keep calling for water, then shivering all 
over would say : “Oh, Ruby, I’s so freezy.” This 
was a sure sign. When the doctor came next day, 
he was not long deciding that it was the fever. 
But, he added, that in all probability he could cut 
its course short, and Faunia would be out again 
in a few weeks at most. “She will have the best 
of nursing, I know, and this is more than half 
the battle.” 

This he said especially for Ruby’s ears, yet it 
fell with consolation on the father’s also. 

For nine days the fever gained ground, Fau- 
nia was growing worse. It was by no means cer- 
tain, or even possible, that she would be out in 
a few weeks as the doctor had predicted. Ruby, 
who was of a sanguine disposition, had despaired. 
When the doctor came the ninth day he grew very 
serious. The first day or two she tried to laugh 
at him, but now she did not notice any one. He 
sat for some time and watched the nervous, weak- 
ened, little form which was dear to him for more 
reason than one. Then turning to Ruby, he said: 
“I will not leave Faunia to-day, we will work to- 
gether. We cannot give her up.” 

“Do, Doctor, your presence will give us much 
relief. We, too, feel that we cannot give her up. 
But if she does go we want to feel that all possi- 


The Burton Manor. 


138 

So Ruby and Dr. Blake settled down to make 
the last determined effort to turn the tide. Rub- 
bing, bathing, soothing was kept up for several 
hours with at least the evidence that they had held 
their own. 

Mr. Burton stayed all that day in the sick room 
with them. His solicitude was intense. He often 
stepped to the doctor’s side and said: “Doctor, 
can you save her life? can you save her?” Then 
again he would say: “I will give all I am worth 
if it will save her.” 

And once in the day when Ruby was out of 
the room he said to Dr. Blake: “Doctor, I have 
been pretty bad at times, but I am going to do bet- 
ter, yes, I must do better. If this pet is saved — 
for her sake I must do better.” 

Out in the kitchen there were two solemn black 
faces. Even at that distance they talked in sup- 
pressed tones for fear of disturbing the bright lit- 
tle face that they almost worshipped. They watched 
every movement with inquiring eyes. When any 
one came within reach from the sick room, they 
were sure to whisper, “How’s de angel? Is she 
bettah ?” 

It was about three in the afternoon that Ruby 
came into the kitchen weeping. She did not need 
to tell them that Faunia was dead — they knew it 
by her crying. They stood almost breathless, as 
great tears began to course down their cheeks. 

“Is de angel gone, Miss Ruby?” asked Marge, 
and before Ruby had time to answer Ruphus put 
in : 

“Oh, Miss Ruby? what will we do wifout de 
Pet? Ruphus was nevah too tiahd to git the hoss 


The Burton Manor. 


139 

and buggy foah dat angel to go a-ridin’. But now, 
he’ll not git to wait on her no moah.” 

Then he burst into a flood of tears and Ruby 
was so touched by the unadulterated tenderness of 
affection in these poor, ignorant creatures, that 
she could not answer for some minutes. When she 
was able to answer she told them that Faunia 
was not dead but very, very low; yet they might 
save her. This only made them cry the harder, 
but now it was for joy. 

As soon as Ruby left them they began to fix the 
matter up to suit themselves. 

“De angel,” said Marge, “she’s too sweet to lib 
in dis wicked wo’ld. ’Speet de good Lo’d’s goin’ 
to take heh ’cause Masser Burton’s been so bad.” 

“Yes, Marge, but Miss Ruby’s been good. 
Wouldn’t de Lo’d leab heah foah Ruby’s sake?” 

“Dun-no. It seems de bad people’s what keeps 
de Lo’d busy watchin’ dem an’ dey drive him to 
do t’ings what hurts de good.” 

“Lawse, Marge, what preachin’. Don’t de Lo’d 
caah foah de good jis’ as much as he does foah de 
bad ? Why, you drives me to specticism.” 

So Marge and Ruphus sat philosophizing with- 
out being able to determine what would be the right 
thing, from the Lord’s standpoint, to be done. 

All day this heavy strain was kept on the en- 
tire household. But late that evening all hearts 
were gladdened with the news that a change for 
the better had come. The fever had fallen rap- 
idly, the nerves had quieted and the signs were all 
hopeful. Mr. Burton wept for joy. And when 
on the following day and still on the following, 


The Burton Manor. 


140 

Faunia continued to improve his joy seemed be- 
yond expression. 

“Oh, Ruby/’ he said, “if you only knew. I do 
love the Pets ; I love you all, but — but ” 

Here words failed him. Ruby knew what was 
in his mind. She could divine that his better 
self was now in control and that he desired to be 
a better man. He felt that he would be. Old 
memories came upon him like a flood. They swept 
before them the hateful images which he followed 
when on the streets or in the saloon. His soul 
was stirred to its depth. His old ambitions came 
back. There was before him a picture. It was 
his old home. There he stood its proud head. 
He was proud of his wealth, of his family, of his 
home, of his name. Ah, he would now rise. But, 
it was only a day dream; his family was broken; 
his wealth was slipping away; he did not know 
what would come next. So into the pool he 
plunged again that his fears might cease to haunt 
him. 

It was more than three weeks before Faunia was 
able to be out. Many times Ruphus had inquired 
if he might not get the pony and cart ready for 
“de little Misses.” So, after waiting so long his 
black face shone with joy when Ruby went to tell 
him one bright morning, that he might get things 
ready for them to take a ride. 

He had the cushions all nicely dusted and the 
pony shone like an egg in the sun. Everything 
was in tip-top shape. He led up to the door- 
way and stood ready to lift the little frail form 
into the buggy. It was not the bouncing bunch 
of life he had lifted so many times. Instead, it 


The Burton Manor. 


141 

was a little, pale, wan face with large, blue eyes 
that shone like diamonds to see the beautiful out- 
of-doors once more. Mr. Burton came carrying 
her down the steps and would have lifted her to the 
buggy, but, no : 

“ 'Ufus, ’Ufus,” she began to shout, as she mo- 
tioned for him to come and get her. 

Buphus swelled all over with pride and pleas- 
ure as he put her snugly to her place in the seat. 

Jamie was ready for his share in the trip. He 
shouted and laughed and pointed out everything 
of interest to Faunia as though he had been em- 
ployed especially for her guide. 

Day after day these drives were repeated till 
Faunia had grown strong and things were mov- 
ing about as usual in the Burton home. 


142 


The Burton Manor. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

Ruby’s wedding was deferred for a few weeks 
then quietly she and Dr. Blake stepped to the 
hymeneal altar and became one for life. The 
shadow of past sorrows still lingered round them, 
but it was that kind of a shadow that amalgamates 
souls. It gave a depth and an earnestness to their 
love that was beautiful to behold. 

They were to remain in the Burton Mansion 
and Ruby was to be mother to the pets. 

Dr. Blake had grown rapidly in popularity 
among the people till his practise had become im- 
mense. Not only that, but in his work he was 
still an earnest student, making much original re- 
search as time afforded. This was fast bringing 
him into prominence in medical circles. His ar- 
ticles were already printed in the leading medical 
journals and carried much weight. He was be- 
coming prominent and thus early in life there 
opened before him vistas into fields of usefulness 
that would bring him to the attention of the whole 
world. 

Mr. Burton continued his struggle between re- 
morse, a desire to do right, and the force of the 
world to draw him on. At home everything spurred 
and inspired him to something better. He was 
fully determined to regain his force of will, his 


The Burton Manor. 


M3 


wealth, his reputation. It seemed that the very 
shadows of the night were filled with voices that 
invited him higher. It seemed, too, at times, that 
out of the dark there came a hand to chide and 
warn. All this he took well and in his soul he 
promised to do better. 

But when these thoughts and suggestions of the 
quiet hour had fled before the light of day and on 
the streets there crowded other friends around, this 
all seemed foolishness to him. 

“What’s the use to be a child?” the question 
would come, “and be led about by these dreams of 
the night ? Iam yet a man, I have lots of friends. 
I am no pauper. This is the surest road to re- 
gain that which I have lost. It is the talk of weak- 
lings that to mingle thus with the men of the 
world will lead to ruin. ‘Regain?’ I must re- 
gain, but these are the friends to help me regain. 
If I cannot join them thus and quaff the social 
glass and mingle in their social pleasures, then 
keep my head erect, and live my personality, I 
ought to go down. Any other course than this 
would be womanish.” 

Thus the battle was fought over, night after 
night, day after day. When at home under the 
influence of those dear to him and the memories 
that hung in every corner of the house he was a 
man of noble purpose. And he really felt he would 
carry out that purpose. But when on the streets 
and under the influence of his friends of the world 
this would all go to the wind. 

Dr. Blake and Ruby often talked the matter 
over and almost despaired. They feared there 
would never be any permanent improvement in 


144 


The Burton Manor. 


the father. Everything went gently and nicely 
about the home, however, except the unpleasant- 
ness of having Mr. Burton returning now and then 
under the influence of liquor. This was particu- 
larly true at one time when Mr. Burton had lost 
a large sum of money by going security for one of 
those friends of the world, who, for the sake of 
appearance had to borrow a great deal of money. 
Just how he managed to keep the confidence of 
his friends and continue to borrow or get them 
to back him, though they had lost on him a num- 
ber of times, is a mystery few people understand. 
This loss caused Mr. Burton to drink quite freely 
for several days in succession, which was the source 
of much anxiety and fear about the Burton home. 

Matters went this way till the early part of De- 
cember, which was a little more than a year from 
Mrs. Burton’s death. Then it came to Ruby’s 
knowledge that her father was engaged to be mar- 
ried to the Widow someone, she did not know her, 
had never even so much as heard of her. She 
might be all right, she might not. She doubted, 
however, the propriety of it as well as the advisa- 
bility. 

“But,” she said to the doctor, “it will not be 
proper for me to object. In fact, there is at least 
a possibility that it might be the best thing. Sup- 
pose,” she reasoned, “father should get a good 
Christian woman, she might be the means of re- 
forming him. And then ” 

But she could not finish that sentence. One of 
the things she had promised her mother was to take 
Faunia and Jamie with her. But suppose her fa- 
ther should object? There was no way of helping 


The Burton Manor. 145 

it. They were his and he had a perfect right to 
keep them. She would gladly keep her promise, — 
she did not know how she could live without them. 
But the whole thing must depend on whether her 
father would consent or no. Again she reasoned 
that they would be an incentive to her father to 
do right. He would surely brace up and be his 
former self for their sake, when the responsibility 
of their care fell more fully on him. So, taking 
the whole situation into consideration Ruby and 
the doctor thought it would not be best to con- 
tend with Mr. Burton about the Pets if he should 
object to their being taken away. 

It was about this same time that Dr. Blake who, 
as we have said, had become quite well known be- 
cause of some original experiments and discoveries 
which he had made, received a call to a position in a 
medical college in an adjoining state. To say the 
least, it was quite a recognition of his ability. So, 
after weighing the matter carefully, he decided to 
accept and began preparations at once to move. 

Ruby, of course, cheerfully agreed to anything 
that would be to her husband’s interest or promo- 
tion. Yet it was no easy thing to leave the "old 
home,” where her whole life had been spent. Every 
angle of the house was endeared to her by some 
memory. She said : "The sorrows make a stronger 
band than the joys. How can I bear to leave the 
room where for many weeks I watched over my 
sainted mother? Also the room, where for the 
last time we gathered to weep over her cold, sweet 
face ?” 

Hot a day since that but she had thought of these 
things, and while the tears would unbidden start, 


The Burton Manor. 


146 

yet some way they brought satisfaction to her mind. 
And then the Pets, — it would surely break her 
heart to leave them. How sweet they were. How 
they had grown up into her life. They clung to 
her as the tender, little vine clings to the trellis 
made especially for it. How they would be dis- 
appointed when they found she was to leave them 
to other hands. Suppose things should go wrong 
and their life should become hard, would they not 
condemn her for it? Was she proving traitor? 
What would her mother think of it? Yet, how 
could she help it? Was it not the unchangeable 
course which events were taking that forced her 
to this? She could not go contrary to her father’s 
will, much less against the inexorable force which 
moved her life amid the shadows or the sunshine 
as seemed best. These were questions that came 
to her. 

But all this Ruby tried to atone for by giving 
them some extra attention during the few days 
which remained for her to stay. It was two rides 
a day instead of one. Each morning they were 
washed and dressed in their fluffs and colors for 
an hour in the carriage. Ruphus fixed the pony 
and little carriage, made especially for it, up in 
the best style, and then as the two babies came 
bouncing out of the house, his black face would 
shine with delight to help them in. 

“Now, Misses Ruby,” he would say, as he gave 
her the lines, “take good caah ov de Pets, dey’s 
mine, ye know.” 

“Yes, Ruphus; please watch for us when we re- 
turn.” 

Ruphus was always on hand. His faithful- 


The Burton Manor. 


147 


ness and obedience were remarkable. It was evi- 
dent he would have risked his own life at any 
time for either Faunia, Jamie or his Mistress. He 
thought all the world of Mrs. Burton. And when 
she died, I do not suppose any one could have felt 
worse over it than this poor creature whose only 
duty was to obey. But he now thought just as 
much of Ruby. 

“Tell ye, Marge,” he said one day, “Ruby is 
a good Misses. I believe she’s bettah than the 
old Misses.” 

“But, say, chil’, do you know she is to leab us?” 

“Great Caanan, Marge, what does ye mean ? What 
ye gibben me dat foah? Misses not leab. Masser 
couldn’t git ’long wifout her heah.” 

“But, now, chil’, will ye sure close yo’ mouf 
on dis what I’m goin’ to gib ye? It’s a great se- 
crecy an’ Marge jis’ fell on to it. Will ye sweah, 
chil’, to keep it?” 

“Yes, ’pon my word, Marge, I hope de alligators 
may git me dis minute ef I evah breave a word 
ov it. Misses not goin’ ’way, is she ?” 

“Yes, Masser Burton’s goin’ to bring ’nother 
woman heah foah his wife and Misses Ruby an’ 
de doctor am goin’ away.” 

“An’ goin’ to take de Pets wid deh?” 

“Dun-no. Jis’ knows what I’se told ye; now 
don’ go to askin’ questions about it.” 

Ruphus drew in his breath till it looked like he 
would burst. This news disconcerted him. For 
several days he went about as though his best 
friend was dead. But he was at least a little re- 
lieved when he learned the Pets were not to go. 

In a short time Mr. Burton was married and 


1 48 The Burton Manor. 

the new wife came to be installed in the home be- 
fore Buby took her departure. She entered heart- 
ily into her position and manifested all the in- 
terest and earnestness that had been wished for. 
In a few days the Pets had become familiar with 
her and she seemed to love them fervently. She 
took great interest in answering their childish 
questions and put herself to a good deal of incon- 
venience to satisfy their curiosity. This renewed 
Mr. Burton’s interest, also, in the Pets. He now 
sat and laughed with them and at them, and would 
follow anywhere to please them. Through the 
house they led him; upstairs, down; around the 
yard; to the barn and back; the whole place over 
they took him and showed the things that held 
their infantile interest. 

Nothing could be more charming than to see 
their eyes sparkling with delight and hear their 
tongues prattle for joy at the increased attention 
paid them. No heart could resist it. It evi- 
dently had much effect on Mr. Burton. New 
thoughts seemed to come to him; rather the old 
thoughts, thoughts of a better life. Of course, 
other things at this time would influence him to 
straighten up, but the strongest influence had its 
source in these two innocent souls. 

It was like the ivy that clings to the sturdy oak 
for support. How proud the oak seems to hold 
it up. What a beautiful sight it is with its trunk 
and great, spreading branches trimmed and decked 
and dripping with the fresh, crimsoned tips that 
respond to every shower. But decay sets in. The 
oak shrinks and shivers in every blast. Its strength 
is gone, it falls before the blast and falling crushes 


The Burton Manor. 149 

the ivy that so tenderly clung to it even in its de- 
cay. 

Here were two tender lives creeping, growing 
up around this larger life. Mr. Burton realized 
it. He also knew, no doubt, what his utter over- 
throw meant for them. If the oak fell the ivy 
must be crushed. It was this that caused him 
to straighten for the time being, and look to a 
better life. 

"It rejoices my heart,” remarked Ruby to the 
doctor, “to see the change come in papa’s life. It 
seems that the heart’s cords are once more mended. 
I hope as they tremble under the strain of this 
new relation, they may produce a melody as sweet 
as that of former days.” 

“And so it would be if we could keep them con- 
stantly under the strain — the influence of the thrill- 
ing touches that come from this new life, but there’s 
the trouble. The ugly, indelicate, unloving thumps 
which the wicked world gives produces discord. 
The malicious jerks which evil men give, the spite- 
ful taunts, the withering, chilling, vexing tempta- 
tions which they throw destroy the harmony that 
better surroundings have produced. If we could 
keep him from these old associates, the old haunts, 
he would be safe, but whenever he leaves the pre- 
cincts of his own door-yard the snares are in his 
way.” 

The time had come for Ruby’s departure. She 
had talked much to the Pets about it, yet they could 
not understand. It was impossible for them to 
comprehend that now they were to be left to other 
hands. They could understand about her going 
away but always connected it with her return. It 


150 The Burton Manor. 

was the return that they thought about, not the 
going away. 

“I’ll jus’ sit here an’ watch, Ruby, till you comes 
back,” said Jamie, as they sat on the veranda one 
evening talking the matter over. 

“Den we’ll come to meet you,” added Faunia. 

“But Ruby’ll be gone a long time, dears.” 

“How long, dis long?” said Jamie, holding up 
the fingers on one hand. 

“Yes, longer than that.” 

“Dis long ?” holding the fingers of both hands. 

“Yes, a long, long time.” 

“Fot makes you go ’way, Ruby?” asked Fau- 
nia. 

“Because the Doctor has to go, then you have 
a new mamma, now.” 

“Will she go ’way like our other mamma ?” 

“Maybe not, pet.” 

“Will she go ’way when you comes back?” 

“Ho, no, dear. She has come to stay with you 
all the time. You will know all about it after 
a while. We must now go to sleep, for to-mor- 
row Ruby goes away.” 

“Fy can’t we go wif you, Ruby ?” 

“You could not leave papa. He could not live 
without you.” 

“Fy can’t papa go wif us?” 

“Oh, he must stay here. Come, sweethearts, let’s 
go to bed.” 

Next day Ruby and the doctor took a touching 
farewell of the Pets and the rest and hastened to 
their new home. 


The Burton Manor. 


I5i 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Six more months have passed. It is June time 
again. Ruby during this time has found her- 
self in the most pleasant surroundings of life. 
She is the wife of a man whom the world loves 
to honor. And honor is a light that casts no 
shadow. It falls in all its splendor upon her as 
it showers upon him. They are in the midst of 
friends of the first class, — those who know how 
to make life pleasant and profitable. They are 
educated and refined, — persons of noble aspira- 
tions and exalted ambitions. They live in the city 
of N , a lovely place, surrounded with a coun- 

try of hills and vales, pasture-lands and sparkling 
brooks. It is a city of homes; with well-paved 
streets, spacious lawns, groves and public parks. 

How quickly the six months have spun by. Hot 
a day but that Ruby has thought, if not spoken, of 
the dear ones left at the “old home.” And now she 
must make a visit. The Pets are expecting it and 
she must not disappoint them any longer. With 
what delight they will receive her and they will 
bounce about with joy as they tell her of their 
nice times. She has written them of her com- 
ing and they are excited with joy. For a num- 
ber of mornings they have been waking with the 
day to ask how long it will be till Ruby comes. 


152 


The Burton Manor. 


T en, perhaps, a half-dozen times a day they run 
into the house to repeat the question. They will 
hold up both hands with the dimpled fingers spread 
out and ask the new mother or Marge to show them 
how many days it will be. 

Ruby’s anxiety likewise became intense as she 
prepares for the visit. She has laid aside a host 
of toys and trinkets to take with her, and as each 
one is packed, she imagines what they will do and 
say when they see it. It is a visit to the “old 
home.” She wonders if everything will appear as 
it used to. It is June. Will everything be as 
beautiful as it was one year ago? Then the flow- 
ers were nicely trimmed and trained and blooming. 
The birds held a concert daily in the fresh-leaved 
trees round the house. They seemed to sing es- 
pecially for her. As her soul reveled in its newly- 
found relation, as her whole being leaned back 
in perfect repose and sweet delight into the em- 
brace of a stronger spirit, and cooed and chanted 
its songs of love, she thought all nature joined her. 
Will it be the same this June as she visits that once- 
enchanted place? was the question she asked her- 
self. 

How will it look to see another moving in the 
place her darling mother filled? “Will she,” ques- 
tioned Ruby, in her mind, “have everything pre- 
pared for my home-coming as mamma did?” But 
then she could hardly expect that. It would be 
enough if she should find a tender, motherly heart 
bending in sympathy over the two innocent lives 
that had been committed to its care. 

How will Claude’s room be? Kept ready as 
for his coming again ? These were questions which 


The Burton Manor. 


153 


also came to Ruby’s mind. Then she would an- 
swer for herself : “I hope so ; for I cannot think 
of him as he died. He is the same, dear, good 
brother that he used to be. How many times I 
have helped mamma fix his room as we thought it 
should be for a boy. Then he would come in and 
patting my girlish cheek would say: ‘How nice; 
sister, you know how to please the bovs, don’t 
you?”’ 

But Claude’s death would not down, and at such 
recollections Ruby was compelled to wipe a tear 
from her eyes. 

Thus Ruby tried to anticipate her entire visit. 
She imagined what each would say when they 
greeted her, how they would act, what they would 
do as the days went by, how they would romp and 
laugh and play, and the old days would return 
again. 

She had no definite word, in fact, no word at 
all, for it was something no one cared to write; 
but she felt certain her father was quite himself 
by this, and that he would join them in their jolly 
times. How much a child she felt. She would 
surely romp on papa’s lap, and throw her arms 
about his neck, just as she used to, and ask him to 
take her out for a drive. He was such a nice, 
good papa. 

These were things that came to her and she 
would almost jump with childish delight as she 
thought of them. 

Well, the day came. She was flying across the 
country at the rate of fifty miles an hour. But her 
thoughts ran far ahead. At the depot were four 
shining eyes. Everybody, in both waiting-rooms, 


i54 


The Burton Manor. 


knew Ruby was coming, for they had told it per- 
sonally to each one. Then they would bound off 
across the platform, then back again to see how 
many minutes it was till the train would come. 
They were the center of attraction. Strangers, citi- 
zens, traveling men, all stopped to say a word to 
them. They were dressed in clean, plain, summer 
wear. It was not this that atttracted, it was their 
sweet spirits, their sunny faces : Faunia, with great 
curls of flaxen hair, eyes blue as the sky, cheeks 
sweeter than the rose-tint of morning; Jamie, 
with his big, brown head and eyes, chubby and fat 
as a butter ball. Both of them constantly laugh- 
ing, jumping, bouncing about. These were the 
things that caused people to notice. 

But, listen! The whistle of the locomotive is 
heard in the distance. They both stop and stand 
for a moment, then as if touched simultaneously 
by the same impulse their fists go to their mouths 
and they answer in true locomotive style. Then 
off they go like a rubber ball to the carriage, where 
the father waits, to announce the train is coming. 

A few minutes later the greeting is over and 
they are in the carriage driving through shaded 
streets and busy avenues toward the suburb place 
so long known as the “Burton Mansion.” Up 
through the shaded lawn they came, as in many 
days gone hy, just as the night began to fall and 
quietness crept over the land. 

Things have changed about the Burton home, 
yet they haven’t changed. What Ruby hoped had 
changed, was yet the same. What she sincerely 
wished would never change had gone the other way. 

The father’s face told his part of the story. He 


The Burton Manor. 


1 55 


met Ruby with a cheerful hesitancy. He was 
glad she had come. She was, perhaps, even yet, 
the dearest person in all the world to him. He be- 
lieved in her, he looked up to her. Yet, there was 
something about his consciousness that made him 
hesitate to meet her. He wanted to greet her as 
innocently as the Pets, yet, knew his every word 
would be affected and that his actions would not 
suit his thoughts at all. He knew what he wanted, 
— what he really was within, but also knew his 
outward seif had gone beyond his control. He 
would stand before tne mirror in his room and ex- 
amine his face, his eyes, his wdiole appearance, 
then in his heart would say: “Fm not the same 
I used to be, — Fve had so much trouble/’ Then, 
with cold water, he would try to drive the fever- 
ish flush from his face and eyes. He had be- 
come more mindful of his appearance and took 
more time to smooth himself up than in former 
days when he was a man of noble bearing. He still 
wanted to hold his place in the world and have 
people think well of him, but he was repeating the 
mistakes made a thousand times over, an unwilling- 
ness to pay the price. 

Ruby hoped the father had changed, he had not. 

Next morning after Ruby’s arrival she is up 
bright and early to stroll about the lawn and gar- 
den that she might see the flowers sparkling with 
the dew and catch the birds’ matin songs. But 
she is disappointed in not seeing the flower-beds 
fixed as usual and the vines trained over the fences 
and veranda rail. There is the mark of neglect 
all around the place. She notices the fences, the 
walks, and the out-buildings are not kept in re- 


The Burton Manor. 


156 

pair as in former times. Of course, things are not 
gone to wreck; but that the process of decay has 
set in is plain to be seen, and no loving, interested 
hand seems to be present to efface its footprints 
as it works. 

Back in the kitchen Ruphus and Marge still 
hold sway. They are pleased beyond expression 
at Ruby’s visit. And as she came along outside 
the open window she overheard this conversation : 

“Miss Ruby’s jis’ as sweet as evah, Marge. Wish 
she’s goin’ to stay wif us.” 

“Suah, chil’, it don’t seem right ’bout heah since 
she’s gone.” 

“New misses not bery kin’. Den she nevah 
laughs and talks t’ us niggahs like Misses Ruby an’ 
de oil Misses. She’s alus souah an’ cross.” 

“Den, I’s ’fraid she’s not as good t’ de Pets as she 
ought f be. Dey not fixed up like Misses use t’ 
fix ’em.” 

Just at this Ruby stepped in at the side door 
and almost frightened Ruphus and Marge out 
of their wits. But the “good-morning, Ruphus, — 
good-morning, Marge,” came so cheerfully that 
their fears were soon over and they were asking 
all about the doctor, how she had been and about 
her new home; also if she were not going to come 
back to stay with them. The questions came so 
fast that she did not have time to answer. They 
were anxious to know how long she was going to 
stay and when they learned her visit was to be 
for a week or ten days, only, they gave vent to their 
disappointment in groans. Their expressions of 
regret made Ruby feel bad to leave them. But 
she assured them that she would keep them busy 


The Burton Manor. 


157 


while there, and that they would have a good time. 
Then she promised them that some day they should 
visit her and the doctor in their new home. This 
quieted them for the time and they held themselves 
ready to do what Ruby might order during her 
visit. 

Ruby had not been home long till she, too, feared 
that the Pets were not getting the attention they 
should have. Yet ignorant of all this they were 
happy as larks. 

But they were not being neglected purposely. 
The new mother meant to treat them just as kindly 
and do just as much for them as though they were 
her very own. They were neglected for the same 
reason the flower-beds were and the house in gen- 
eral. It was not a lack of love, it was a lack of 
training. The new mother was doing her best, 
and it was unsatisfactory to her as well as to others, 
so much so that she became much discouraged with 
life. The trouble was deep-seated. She had come 
from a family of considerable wealth, so that all 
her life she had every desire supplied, and that 
with little or no effort on her own part. Her 
whole training had been without rule or discipline. 
In childhood she could go to school if she liked, 
if not stay at home. She was allowed to study just 
what her fancy chose, and that only till she grew 
tired of it. In music she could practise when she 
pleased, and only so long as she pleased. That 
was generally when the mother was performing 
some work the daughter should have done. She 
was never required to fasten her mind to any one 
thing for a definite length of time. All her fancy 
work was laid aside unfinished. She was not re- 


The Burton Manor. 


158 

quired to place her clothes in a regular place, but 
depended on the indulgent mother to keep trace 
of them. She loved things of beauty, order, clean- 
liness, but was not taught to beautify or keep things 
in order or clean. Her whole life had been a sort 
of haphazard, unfinished tasks, so that she came 
to womanhood and wifehood without any definite 
aim or purpose in life. She loved life and loved 
to enjoy it but she did not know how to enlarge 
life or to woo its joys. She would work hard from 
early morning till late at night, yet the house 
was topsy-turvy and uninviting. All the little 
trimmings, hand-made trinkets, cushions, etc., that 
went to make her mother’s house attractive were 
not to be seen. Where were they? What was the 
trouble? They were in her mother’s house, she 
gave them no thought, never inquired how they 
got there. * She simply lived and enjoyed them — 
never thinking it might become handy to know how 
to make and arrange those things some day. She 
really thought they would drop upon her future 
walls and center tables, and sofas, just as they 
had in the past. 

Money could, of course, buy a good many things 
and get a good many things done, but here was 
something money could not do. It takes not only 
money but deft, disciplined, systematic, loving 
hands to make home inviting and satisfactory to 
the occupants and the one who keeps it. 

It will not be hard to guess from this what con- 
dition Ruby found at the home. Everything lacked 
discipline and order, even to the washing and dress- 
ing of the Pets. When Ruby saw this, she was not 
at all surprised to learn that her father had grown 


The Burton Manor. 


159 


more and more despondent and spent most of his 
evenings downtown. She was powerless, however, 
to remedy matters. She wanted to take the Pets 
home with her, but the father still objected. So, 
after a visit of ten days, she hugged them to her 
bosom, kissed them many good-byes and returned 
to the place that now, more than ever before, was 
home to her. 


160 The Burton Manor. 


CHAPTEE XV. 

It was the month of November, following the 
last date given in this narrative, that I visited the 

city of B for the third time. A friend had 

taken me out for a drive over the city. We had 
gone through many rich streets, past many fine 
houses and business blocks when we turned into 
avenue Grand. 

“This,” my friend said, “is counted the finest 
street in the city. Notice the palatial homes, its 
lawns, its groves, its up-to-date improvements along 
every line. Money has not been spared to make 
it fine.” 

All this time we were moving briskly on. The 
crisp morning air was bracing, the ride was exhila- 
rating. Crowds of boys and girls, laughing, shout- 
ing, playing, met us on their way to school. There 
they were, bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked, fresh from 
these homes of wealth. 

“Ah,” said I, “this is ‘prosperity.’ When peo- 
ple can live like this and build cities after this 
fashion, what’s the use to cry fiiar d times’ ?” 

“Prosperity,” my friend replied. “There is 
not a man in this city, if he is industrious, eco- 
nomical and temperate but that may have his own 
home and be comfortable.” 

“But you have some who are not of this class, 
have you not ?” I inquired. 

“Oh, yes,” was his answer. 

By this time we were getting pretty well out 


The Burton Manor. 


161 

from the business center. The houses began to 
occupy more space yet no less nicely fixed. All 
of a sudden my friend brought his horse to a stand- 
still. 

‘There,” he said, calling my attention to the place 
on the north side of the avenue, “is what was at 
one time called the nicest, most convenient, most 
desirable property in the city. It shows it yet, 
though it is going back. It is the Burton Man- 
sion.” 

Then he gave me the story which I had heard 
in parts before. 

“At present,” he continued, when I asked for 
the conclusion, “and just recently, it has gone for 
debt. Burton and family are driven out. And, 
I just learned his wife — his second wife — has left 
him; leaving him in an old hut with his two chil- 
dren. Burton, himself, has become a sot. But 
the place has fallen into hands that will fix it up. 
The ‘Saloon-Keepers’ Association’ of the city have 
bought it for a Club House, and mean to make 
the grounds a kind of evening pleasure resort.” 

Our drive was ended. I remained in the city 
overnight, but, as I was going to an early train next 
morning, this whole thing was frozen in my mem- 
ory. This is what I saw and learned. 

In the afternoon of the preceding day the wind 
rose from the northwest and as night came on, 
people were donning their heavy wraps and com- 
plaining about the raw, cold wind. On the streets, 
however, that afternoon and evening wandered two 
little waifs. They were Faunia and Jamie Bur- 
ton. They were hunting for papa. He was gone 
and they were hungry. As night came on they 


162 


The Burton Manor. 


began to hunt for some place to lay their heads. 
Their feet were bare, their limbs almost naked, and 
red with the cold. They clung to each other’s hand 
and wandered up the streets and down the alleys — 
but found no papa. At last Jamie said: “Here, 
sister, here’s a nice box, an’ it’s jus’ full of soft 
things. Let’s get in an’ get warm.” 

It was a big, drygoods box at the back of a large 
mercantile establishment. It was filled with pa- 
per and packing materials. And this was their 
bed for the night. Many times through the night 
Faunia shivered with the cold and groaned. Then 
Jamie would hug her up close to him and say: 
“Never mind, sister, it will soon be morning, then 
we will find papa and he’ll get us something to 
eat.” 

Poor innocent Pets did not know Papa was in 
a place where the noble State had said they dare 
not go — a saloon. 

The night passed and morning came. Jamie rose 
to find himself stiff and numb with cold. But 
soon he had Faunia awake and they were slipping 
out of the alley on to the street. 

Faunia’s hair had not been combed for several 
days, so it was a perfect mat of rich, golden curls 
hanging down to her shoulders. Her deep blue 
eyes looked sick. She was hungry, sleepy and 
tired, yet sweeter than the dawn of the day. 

Already persons were moving hurriedly about 
to their places of toil. The crack of horses’ hoofs 
and the rumble of heavy wheels sounded in every 
direction. The merry whistle of early-rising work- 
men filled the streets with cheerfulness. The city 
was waking. 


The Burton Manor. 


163 

“Let's cross over here, sister, where they keep 
siich good things to eat in the window. Maybe 
papa will be in there." 

“Well,” plaintively said Faunia, “but, Jamie, 
don't go too fast, my feet is so cold I can't run.” 

“But, sister, there's a big wagon cornin'. Hurry, 
sister, — oh, hurry, oh ” 

“My God, man, stop !” cried a voice from the 
sidewalk. “You've run over two waifs.’ f 

It was all too late. The fiery-eyed horses had 
trampled them down and the heavy wheels had 
passed over them. Two little, cold, half-starved 
bodies, clad in rags, were left lying in the streets 
behind. 

It was the heavy, iron-framed beer wagon mak- 
ing its early rounds to distribute the beverage for 
the day. As the rough-faced driver, flushed with 
his drink, jumped to the pavement and stood 
wrapped in his big, heavy coat, whip in hand, he 
hissed in a harsh, hoarse voice: ‘AVhat are the 
little devils on the streets fer this time 0' day? 
They're Joe Burton's kids. Joe, he's been drunk 
fer two days." 

He again mounted his wagon, cracked his whip 
and was away with his load. The two little, bleed- 
ing, shivering forms are gathered up and carried 
to an office nearby. Faunia lay motionless and 
cold, — she was dead. The horse's shoe had struck 
her in the back of the head and crushed the skull. 
But Jamie, with an ugly wound on his breast, and 
other bruises, showed signs of life. His injuries 
were soon nicely dressed and he was left in careful 
hands to wait the results. 

Early that day there passed that way the lit- 


The Burton Manor. 


164 

tie woman in blue and the man with the red-banded 
cap, — “the Captain and his wife,” as they were 
called. When they heard the story, they inquired : 
“And where is Mr. Burton? In what saloon?” 

They were directed to the place and hastened to 
see him. He was just beginning to come to him- 
self, yet no one had broken the news of the acci- 
dent to him. After much persuasion, they got him 
to go to the barracks with them and when his con- 
dition would permit they told him what had hap- 
pened. 

“My God ! Oh, my God ! has it come to this ?” 
he cried, as he threw himself at full length on 
the floor. “My wife, my son, my baby. It has 
killed them all. Oh, is there no help, can no one 
save me ?” 

“Yes, Mr. Burton,” said the Captain, who had 
not left him for a moment since they found him. 
“We know of One and only One who can save you.” 

“Who can it be? I did not know a living soul 
cared for me. Are you sure, sir, he will want to 
do this?” 

“Oh, yes. He never turns a soul away, no mat- 
ter what he is.” 

“Who can it be? Do tell me.” 

“It is Jesus.” 

Mr. Burton threw himself down and wept aloud. 

“My God, my Lord and my God, canst thou help 
me ? Wilt thou help me ?” 

The Captain and his wife worked with him till 
there came a sense of relief. They had also sent 
a telegram to Buby and the answer had come that 
she would be there on the first train. 

She came — but we must leave it to you, dear 


The Burton Manor. 165 

reader, to infer what took place, save this: Mr. 
Burton fell before her on his knees, and said : 

“Oh, Ruby, my daughter, can you forgive me? 
can you forgive me? See what my folly has done. 
First it was your mamma, then Claude, and now 

our Pet is killed. And ■" Here he stopped, 

then rose and going over to the bed where the 
emaciated, feverish, bruised form of Jamie lay, he 
bent and smoothed back his hair as he continued, 
“And see how this darling suffers. It was my folly, 
but, ah ! the demons, they tempted, they urged me 
on. They killed my wife, my son; they took my 
home, and to-night, they hold their bacchanal on 
the very spot where they choked and smothered the 
innocence of childish prattle. It was my folly, 
but they've done it." 

They? 

The remainder of our story is quickly told. Mr. 
Burton never recovered from the shadow of gloom 
that settled down over him. The memory of the past 
haunted him till the last. He lived but a few 
years, then died in the bitterness of remorse that 
springs from an inability to forgive one's self. 
Ruby returned to her home as soon as Jamie's con- 
dition would permit him to be moved. The years 
that followed in her life were so many fingers to 
weave a crown of honor that brightened with the 
roll of time, while he who stood so bravely by her 
side, gently placed it on her brow and kissed away 
the sorrows of the past. 


THE END. 



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1C0PY DEL. TO CAT, QIV. 

JUN 3 lyub 










